Eleven (18 page)

“I understand you want to find some trace of DNA, human blood, but it’s been exposed to the weather for years. How do we even know it’s the same trough? Maybe it looks like the older one.”

“A man of little faith.”

“I find it odd a non-religious person like you has said faith twice in the last few minutes.”

“I’m almost done.” The CSI sounded panicked. “What’s it doin’?”

“You’re fine, she hasn’t even moved.” Jack exhaled a puff of smoke. “DNA can be obtained years after the fact. A little disappointed you didn’t know that.”

“They don’t teach us everything at the academy.” I noticed he never touched on my personal observation of him.

“So your response to not knowing something is to blame the academy.”

“I’m not blaming them—”

“Sounds like that’s what you just did.”

“Sometimes I think we need to work on our communication skills. You don’t even call me by my name. It’s Brandon by the way.”

A blank stare in response, seconds passed before he spoke. “We’re not a couple, Kid. I’m your boss and you’re part of my team.”

“We still need to com-muni-cate.” I dragged out the word.

“Aren’t we doing that right now?” Another pull on the cigarette.

“Can you guys stop talking and keep an eye on that pig?”

Jack waved a hand. “She’s fine.”

“Yeah ’cause she sees somethin’ new on the menu.”

Another grunt came from the sow. This time she moved. The piglets danced around her.

Jack calmly smoked his cigarette. “You’re doing great.”

The CSI stopped moving and looked at me. “Why are you doing this to me?”

The sow stirred more. The piglets squealed creating a small ruckus.

The CSI looked over his shoulder.

I said to Jack, “Maybe we should get him out of there.”

“He’ll be fine.” He dropped the cigarette to the barn floor and extinguished it with a twist of his shoe.

“Oh dear God.” The CSI moved quickly swiping at the inside of the trough and put what looked like large cotton swabs away into sealed cylinders.

“Make sure you get at least six. Get them from the bottom, and the cracks.”

The investigator never looked up, just kept moving. “If I die tell my wife I loved her.”

“You’re not going to die. You’re doing great.”

Maybe Jack’s past had turned him a tinge insane. There was something about his eyes, and the way they glistened, that told me he enjoyed the present situation. It was a similar look to the one he gave me when he said it wasn’t a big deal my photo was sent to Bingham. Look at how that turned out.

“Maybe you should get out now.” If Jack mistook my logic for weakness, so be it. I didn’t want to watch a man be attacked by a pig.

Jack faced me. “You’re calling the shots now?”

“He’s been in there too long as is. Look at the sow, the piglets. It won’t be long until they get curious—”

“Oh, shit!” The CSI dumped his swabs into the case he carried on a strap over his torso. One of the piglets bounced around his feet, squealing as if announcing danger to the mother.

The sow let out a scream that pulled from the realms of science fiction. Both high-pitched and eerie, the hairs on my arms rose.

“Okay time to come back,” Jack said.

“Oh, now’s the time? I’m going to die!” The CSI waded his way back through the knee-high muck that threatened to suck him in as quicksand and hold him captive for the angry mama pig. He glanced over his shoulder. The sow moved at a good pace across the pen, the mud not having the same limiting effect on her.

“You can make it. Come on!” I stood in front of the gate, ready to unlatch it. Jack stepped to the side. He had a grin on his face.

The CSI lost the battle and fell over, elbow to muck. His arm sank in making it hard for him to regain full height.

“Move it!”

The man’s face was now sheer panic. Enlarged eyes spoke,
I’m going to die
, and projected from them at the volume of a scream.

The sow was closing the distance at a fast rate. The CSI wasn’t going to make it.

“You only have ten more feet.” I didn’t want to tell him the sow only had about that to reach him. “Come on!”

The piglets squealed as the sow charged toward the CSI.

The CSI lifted his legs high, mocking an athlete who warms up with jogging on the spot, their knees to mid-chest.

“Three more feet.” My arms instinctively reached outward. The CSI made it within reach, and I pulled him to the gate. Fortunately, the piglets danced around the sow and slowed her pace. I unlatched the gate and swung it open. “Get in here.”

The CSI came through so abruptly, he lost his balance and fell to the barn floor.

The sow reached the gate by the time I had re-latched it. Her wild eyes penetrated mine. She just might have killed him.

The CSI rose, bracing his hands on his thighs and heaved for a solid breath. I expected him to yell at Jack, but instead he straightened out and let out a wail, “Yeah! What a rush!”

My forehead compressed, and a smile grew on my lips. Jack was laughing.

“See, I told you, you could do it.”

“I feel so alive! Woo.” His last word was spoken at a lower volume. His euphoria was crumbling. He looked down at his clothing which was caked with mud. “My wife’s gonna kill me.”

“What the hell were you doing in there?” Mrs. Coleman moved through the barn toward us as if she simply hovered over the ground. A finger pointed to the pigpen. Her attention was on the CSI. “You get to that trough by bending over from the outside of the pen. You trying to die?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, you be thankful you ain’t. Maggie has attacked before.” The arm and the pointed finger dropped to her side, but Mrs. Coleman wasn’t finished. “And now you’ve gone upset my pig.” She moved to the gate, snapped her fingers and pointed to the back corner. The sow obeyed.

“See like a dog,” Jack whispered to me.

I passed him a quick look, hoping that Mrs. Coleman didn’t pick up on what he had said.

Two hands went to her hips. “I talked to the Sheriff. He said to let you men do what needed doing.” She passed a condemning assessment to the CSI’s muddy clothing before settling her eyes on Jack. “Seems you already have. Now is that all?”

“When did you last replace the trough?” Jack asked.

“Troughs last a long time. That one over there has been around at least eighteen years.”

“So this would be the same one that Bingham put the feed in,” I countered.

“Yes, that it would be.”

“What happened to end Bingham’s employment here?”

Her arms crossed, but she looked me in the eyes when she answered. “Lance had a temper. I mean most of the time he was fine, somewhat easy to manage. Periodically he’d git in moods.”

“And that’s all?”

“You mentioned plastic bags?”

Both Jack and I nodded.

“I caught him dumping from those into the troughs. You tell a soul, I’ll deny it.”

“Do you know what it was?”

“Nope. But I know it wasn’t approved by the FDA. That’s what mattered to me. Not long after that, I had a few pigs take sick. Real sick. I had to have ’em put down.”

“As far as you know were any of the pigs who ate what Bingham fed them sold for human consumption?” Jack asked.

My stomach tightened with nausea as it did earlier. We really had no idea what we put in our mouths these days.

“I told the Sheriff I couldn’t trust you. He said I could. You just want to shut us down.”

I tried to calm her down. “If anyone is responsible it would be Bingham.”

“But it’s my farm, my reputation. Word gets out and we’re destroyed. Twenty generations of Colemans destroyed under my management.”

“It doesn’t have to get to that.”

Mrs. Coleman had remained silent for at least thirty seconds before she spoke. “Some were set to go to slaughter the next day.”

Jack bobbed his head. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“You’re going to shut us down, aren’t you? What did Bingham feed ’em? Please let me know.” Mrs. Coleman trailed behind us.

Jack turned around. “Honestly, we don’t have an answer for that right now.”

She pointed a finger to the CSI, who was headed out of the barn to the driveway. “But that’s what he was doin’? Tryin’ to figure it out? Lance hasn’t worked here for about six years.”

“When we know something, you will.”

Jack led the way, and I walked behind him. Mrs. Coleman stopped at the entrance to the barn, arms still crossed.

The CSI was loading his evidence kit into his van. He slammed the back of his van shut when we approached. He addressed Jack, “What is wrong with you anyway?”

Jack didn’t say anything.

“Did someone hurt you as child?” The CSI didn’t look at Jack when he spoke. When it was apparent Jack wasn’t going to participate in the conversation he got into his van.

Jack and I loaded into the SUV. He turned the radio on at low volume and pulled out another cigarette. Those lit sticks seemed to be the only thing that held Jack together.

“Did someone hurt you?” I repeated the CSI’s question and flicked the radio off.

Jack turned it back on and turned up the volume. He maneuvered the SUV around so he didn’t have to back out the entire length of the driveway.

I turned the radio off again. He put his window down, blew a puff of smoke out of it and turned the radio on, louder than the last time.

“Why do you do this every time someone has a question about you?” I raised my voice over the music and studied his profile. It revealed nothing. I turned the radio off, which got me a death glare. “Just a question. When we find out Bingham fed her pigs human intestine, are you going to tell her?” I watched Mrs. Coleman from the rearview mirror. She remained at the edge of the barn.

“She’ll find out.”

“But not from you?”

“We all have jobs to do. Shutting down farms isn’t mine.”

“You told her when we know something, she will.”

“And that, Kid, is not a lie.”

CHAPTER 18

Paige knew when Jack took her to the side saying he needed to speak with
her it was going be something she might regret agreeing to. When she first joined the academy, she knew it was going to be hard work. She’d have to prove herself as strong as a man and even more intelligent. After all, it was still a male dominated world.

The intelligence aspect had always been relatively easy. Strength was something she continued to battle with but not so much the physical as the emotional. She tried to keep that concealed under layers of bravado.

She knew Jack saw the glimmer of vulnerability in her, but he respected her enough to ignore it. And to her, it wasn’t as if she were fragile. She was human. She had compassion despite years on this job. In a way maybe that was more a strength than a weakness anyhow. It allowed her to keep perspective.

Being a woman brought with a preconceived notion that dated back before women’s liberation. Even a modern man who considered himself untouchable by a woman could easily be swayed by sweet words, tight clothes and slit eyelids. Of course, the easiest flirtation that would never grow old, the deep-throated laugh. That was when a woman would pretend to be so amused by the words coming out of a man’s mouth she’d toss her hair, or roll back her head to display the length of her neck. Paige had that one down.

Sometimes she wondered at what point it had been when she had sacrificed her female dignity to gain a lead. But honestly at the end of the day if a little flirting brought them closer to the unsub and brought an end to the madness it was well worth it.

She delegated the crime tip line to Zachery and excused herself from his view. Jack said to be careful and that none of the local law enforcement could be trusted.

He would have waited on the federal CSIs if he weren't in such a hurry to get the swabs of the trough done. He said that couldn’t wait until morning. So here she was
babysitting
a house full of men including Zachery, two CSIs, and Deputy White, who had returned. She’d focus on the weakest.

She watched Deputy White sucking back on his take-out coffee cup as it was the only thing keeping him up. He pulled it down and let out an enormous yawn.

He caught her watching him. “Long week.”

“Yeah it is, and it’s just starting.” She smiled politely, but this man wasn’t her target. He would have been oblivious to any of her attempts to woo something informative. But regardless, she had to try. “Did you know Earl very well?”

“Nah. Well, a bit. I mean he grew up in the county. He was around. I was around.” He took another draw on the coffee, the suction from his mouth made a slurping noise when he pulled back.

“So you didn’t really get to know him?”

“Nope.” As he spoke the single word, he exhaled a stream of coffee-polluted breath in her direction.

“Well, that’s too bad. I’ve heard he was a great guy.” She twisted the words from the CSIs that
Earl would never do this.

“Like I said. Couldn’t tell ya.”

“His buddies are going to miss him.”

“Bet they will.”

“What are their names again? My memory’s not the best sometimes.” She lied.

The Deputy didn’t even give her a sideways glance. It told Paige he was putting in the time. Any experienced law enforcement officer would realize the vital importance of a good memory.

“The older one’s Kevin, and the blondie is Charlie.”

“Thanks.” Paige smiled and excused herself. She headed down to the laundry room where
the blondie
was. Even though, she had a reliable memory, most times the CSIs blended together and remained nameless. But this one, her target, she would come across interested in him. “Charlie.”

The young investigator who was probably a few years younger than Brandon was hunched behind the dryer taking photographs of the find. He spoke with his back to her. “Yeah.”

She might have to work a little bit for this one, but she had confidence in her abilities. “Do you have a sec?”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Guess so.” He stood up bracing hands on his thighs as he rose.

“You were really close to Earl.”

“Yeah, I was.” His eyes went from her to the pictures of the cut marks on the victim. “I still can’t believe he did this. It’s like a nightmare.”

Paige tilted her head to the right. “I can imagine.” She added a slight pout to her lips. “What was he like?”

Charlie’s eyes held hers. They hardened and misted over. “Not like this.” He pointed to the pictures. “He was a quiet person, kept to himself.”

“So he didn’t have a lot of friends?”

“Not really, but he was a good guy.”

His statement made them both go silent for a few seconds. The horror of the photographs, the fact Royster shot at Jack and Brandon and held a gun on Zachery shattered any preconceived notion that Royster was a good man.

Charlie snapped the latex gloves off and ran both hands down his face. “I see it in your eyes. I understand how you can’t believe that.”

“Had he been different lately?”

“You mean besides how he became obsessed with his brother’s disappearance years ago?”

“Yeah.” She had to play this close. She couldn’t disclose they suspected another unsub. “How did he respond to the find two days ago?”

Charlie went quiet and Paige feared she’d lost him.

“What did he tell you, Charlie?” Paige put out a hand to the CSI’s shoulder. He didn’t retract from her touch, unlike Brandon, who always stepped back to avoid contact.

Charlie’s head dropped forward. Paige gave him a few seconds. When he lifted his head, tears were pooled in his eyes. “He wasn’t right. I just assumed it was the crime scene. It was pretty intense for around here.”

“It would be intense for pretty much anywhere.” She pressed her lips, careful to turn them only a quarter upward to reveal the hint of a smile. It was to provide support yet not detract from the severity of the conversation.

“We went out for beers last night. He was pouring them down. He said the next couple days would be interesting.”

“Interesting?” Paige pulled her arm back.

“That’s what I said. Oh God—” Both hands went to his face again.

 “What is it?”

The hands peeled from his face. “He said he was curious about how fast the FBI worked. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.” Charlie’s gaze dropped to the floor before matching with Paige’s eyes. “The rumor upstairs is Earl sent a picture of that new agent to Bingham. Was that part of his game?”

“Where did you hear—” Paige waved a hand, realizing she knew the answer to the question she was going to ask. They had filled in the Sheriff and Deputy on the picture. It probably spilled over to the CSI. “We might never know for sure. But it appears Agent Fisher was the next target.” Seconds passed. “You still don’t believe all this,” Paige said the words seasoned with sympathy as she opened a hand and gestured around the room. The CSI’s eyes fell. It was time to open this man up. “You said you were close with Earl. Would you consider yourself his best friend?” She smiled at him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, please don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old.” She let out a small laugh, a teaser.

“It’s a sign of respect. You can’t be much older than me anyhow.” He returned the smile.

She had him. “Some days I feel a lot older. Lately at least forty.”

“Forty? No way. Wouldn’t believe it.”

 He didn’t need to know she was that age exactly. She let out a deep-throated laugh and rolled her head back and to the side. She executed the move flawlessly.

“Hey, you want to get a drink sometime?”

Maybe she executed the move too faultlessly. Her smile faded. “The big guy wouldn’t like it.”

“Your boss?”

Paige nodded. At least another twenty seconds of silence passed, the tangible kind shared amongst strangers, with each person wondering what the other was thinking. Paige broke the silence. “Did Royster have a girlfriend?”

Charlie blurted out a laugh. It stifled when he noticed her face was expressionless. “You did see him?” She nodded. “He wasn’t exactly the hottest guy in the county.”

“Not bad.” She was being generous. In all honesty, when she saw Royster for the first time, she didn’t take a second glance. And it wasn’t just the number of CSIs she was used to running into. He didn’t have anything that stood out and made him memorable.

“Seriously?” Charlie laughed. “You’d be the first hot,” he cleared his throat. Paige smiled. “Anyway, country women have great stamina, as I’m sure you do, but Earl’s allergies weren’t exactly a magnet for them. Not that it really mattered. Earl preferred men.”

All Paige wanted to do was run upstairs to Zachery and call Jack. This was the fine jewel of information they needed. Statistically team killers were a pairing of two or more men. “Was he with anyone recently?”

“Oh, please don’t spread the word too much. Others on the team didn’t know. It’s still a religious community around here, closed to new worldly ways.”

“I understand.”

“He’s had a thing with someone for years. They even talked about getting married. But that’s illegal here in Kentucky.”

“They could have left and got married in a state that supported it.”

“No way. Earl’s heart was in Kentucky. Nowhere else.”

“What is the name of the person Earl was involved with?”

Charlie seemed hesitant to answer, and it reaffirmed why they couldn’t trust anyone around here. Potentially anyone could have been the person wearing the other boot in the picture. Paige put her hand on his shoulder again. “He’ll need to know what happened and why. Let us explain it to him.”

Seconds later, Charlie answered, “Quinton Davis.”

“A black man?”

“An American.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“I know you didn’t.” Charlie let out a deep breath. “Guess that comes from years of defending the guy.”

“You said others didn’t know.”

“I said the other guys on the team didn’t know. You really think in a small town like this you can keep rumors from spreading?”

I pulled out the laptop again and scanned the history of Bingham’s followers.

“You’re back on that Twitter thing again.”