Blood Legacy Page 2

  Renz pulled the large US map from the closet and placed it on the table. Using dry-erase markers, we could indicate the area of the interstate where each body was found, which state it was in, the nearest airport, and a logical route to use from one site to the next. We gathered around the map and began with the freeway, the nearest town, and the nearest airport. Renz drew a blue circle around the nearest town, I indicated the interstate in red dashes, and Charlotte put a dot next to the international or regional airport closest to the location. Ten minutes later, we stood back and stared at the map.

  “I think we should start in Montana, make our way to Utah, and then hit Kansas, Missouri, and lastly Nebraska. It makes the most sense. From Nebraska, it’s only a hop, skip, and a jump before we’re back in Milwaukee.”

  Renz nodded.

  “Okay, then, I’ll have Tory set it up, and be ready to leave in an hour. Meanwhile, I want all of you to review the police reports and familiarize yourselves with everything we have. Everyone needs to be on board and know what they’re dealing with so Jade and Lorenzo can hit the ground running when they reach Montana.”

  Chapter 3

  Cassie made it to the evergreens without being shot. She didn’t know how she’d done it, and she thanked God for keeping her alive. Bart and his men had made a good attempt at killing her, and the bullets that zinged past her could have hit their mark like they did with Jolie. God had helped her reach safety. She was sure of it. Cassie sucked in deep breaths as she crouched beneath a large tree. Her lungs ached, but her heart ached even more. She had nobody left, and as she watched from her elevated hiding place, Bart and Donny loaded Jolie’s lifeless body into the cart pulled by Donny’s four-wheeler. They took off, and as dust spun under the fat tires, a thick cloud of brown hung in the air and blocked her view.

  Tears streamed down Cassie’s cheeks. She covered her mouth as she coughed and hoped the sound didn’t echo into the valley.

  It’s all my fault. I thought running away would save us from the fate Bart had threatened us with on a daily basis, but instead, I got her killed sooner. How am I going to do this alone? I don’t even know where I am, where this ranch is, or how far away civilization is.

  With nothing more than a sweatshirt and food and water that would last maybe three days now that she was alone, Cassie knew she had to find the road to freedom before Bart found her. If he did, she would surely be the next to die.

  April nights in Montana dipped into the twenties at times, and her sweatshirt wouldn’t keep her warm for long. Finding a town was imperative, but as she scanned the horizon and looked from left to right, she saw nothing but open plains and, in the far distance, the ranch. Behind her were mountains, but a city could be on the other side. One thing she was certain of—if she went back down the way she came, she would be shot.

  Chapter 4

  It was nearly four o’clock by the time Renz and I reached our hangar at General Mitchell International Airport, Milwaukee’s only major airport and the one where our jet was housed. The convenience of having the airport a few miles from our office was well worth the cost of the hangar and the services it afforded us. After signing in and speaking with the pilot for a few minutes, Renz and I boarded our jet and settled in. We would fly to Butte, Montana, and check into our hotel rooms Tory had booked for the night. By my calculations, we’d be landing around seven o’clock local time with the one-hour time difference. Tomorrow, we’d drive to the dump site, a half hour east of Butte in the Whitehall area, and begin our workday.

  While in the air, I searched the internet for types and styles of brands, what they might mean, and why a perp would do something as heinous as branding a human. I also tried to learn whether any perps were on record for doing that in the past. After forty-five minutes of searching without any luck, I shut down my computer and ran ideas past Renz instead.

  I studied the pictures of the bodies. The brands were identical, which told me the perp used an actual branding iron, not something homemade. “So because the brands are identical, they were obviously applied with a real iron.”

  “Was that a statement or a question?”

  “Asking for confirmation, I guess.”

  “And I’d agree. I’m not sure if an ME can tell how old a brand is, but there must be a length of time it takes for that burn to completely heal and scar over. The victims must have been held in custody for some length of time if the brands are completely healed or less time if they aren’t.”

  I stared at the pictures again but couldn’t tell. “Hmm…”

  “What?”

  “So you’re saying more recent brands could mean the victim was with the perp for a shorter length of time?”

  Renz scratched his cheek, then he shrugged. “I guess there’s just no way to know that. He might have recently decided to start branding people, so he could have had the victims with him for years. They could be employees or even relatives.”

  The thought made me shudder. I couldn’t imagine somebody doing that to their own flesh and blood then shooting them too. “That’s more than disturbing.”

  “And that’s why tough agents like us take on these assignments.”

  I smiled. “I’m getting a soda. Want one?”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  After returning to my cushy seat, I resumed our conversation. “What do you think the circle within a circle means?”

  “It could be initials, meaning they’re O’s, not circles.”

  “True. Maybe the killer’s initials?”

  “Possibly, but that would seem too blatant if he didn’t want us to immediately find him.”

  “How about the initials of a ranch or a company?”

  “Could be those, too, but until we get deeper into the case, there’s no way to know.”

  I groaned. “I suppose you’re right.” I pulled my vibrating phone from my pocket, and a text from Amber had come in. I read it and grumbled. “Damn it.”

  “Bad news?”

  “Yeah, the Brewers lost against the Twins today.”

  “Sorry. You a baseball fan?”

  “Nah, more like a tailgating fan, but they’re the home team, so of course I’m going to root for them.”

  “As you should. I prefer football, and I know you do, too, by those kick-butt Packer parties I’ve heard you enjoy hosting.”

  “Yep, every year, so get used to it.”

  “Duly noted.” Renz gave me a wink. “I’m going to take a nap for an hour. We’re just passing the halfway point.”

  “Not a bad idea. Think I’ll do the same.” I dimmed the light above me, aimed the air vent away from the top of my head, and closed my eyes. It would be a miracle if I fell asleep since I was so focused on that brand and what it might mean.

  When I heard the landing gear being lowered, I woke and was surprised that I had fallen asleep. I smiled as I noticed Renz, sitting across from me, sleeping with his head arched back and his mouth wide open. I would be sure to take that golden opportunity to rib him as soon as he woke. With my laptop powered up again, I checked for emails that might have come in during the last hour. There weren’t any new ones.

  Renz grumbled, scratched his neck, and opened his eyes. I grinned as soon as he looked at me.

  “What?”

  I shrugged. “Didn’t know you did that.”

  “Did what?” He quickly wiped his mouth as if making sure drool hadn’t dripped to his chin.

  “Nope, no drool. Just flies buzzing in and out of your mouth while you slept.”

  “Right, like flies somehow got into this jet, but that might explain why my mouth feels like desert sand.”

  “I’d imagine so. Anyway, no new emails, and we’re going to be landing soon.”

  “Okay, I’ll hit the john unless you want to go first.”

  I tipped my chin. “Nah, I’m good.”

  By the time we reached the hangar and the steps were lowered, it was ten after seven local time. I stood, stretched, and grabbed my go bag. Renz di
d the same and headed to the exit.

  “Let’s get the rental, find our hotel, and then have supper. I’m star—”

  I held up my hand. “I know. You’re starving.”

  Renz frowned. “And you aren’t?”

  “Actually, I am too.” I jerked my head toward the steps. “You gonna leave or not?”

  “Oh yeah. I was just thinking about what I was hungry for.”

  Tory had booked our rooms at the hotel and convention center next to the airport. It would do just fine. We checked in and had dropped off our bags by seven thirty. That gave us plenty of time to relax over a nice supper and review our schedule for tomorrow.

  Because the hotel had the enormous convention center attached, several restaurants were available. To play it safe, we decided on American fare at Cheval, a family restaurant that looked somewhat upscale. After browsing the menu, I chose the chicken dumpling stew with a side salad and a warm roll. Renz went with the broiled salmon, baby asparagus, and a baked sweet potato. As we waited for our food and sipped white wine, we went over the names of people and the times we were to meet with them tomorrow.

  Whitehall was a small town east of Butte with barely a thousand in population. From what the report read, the dump site was a few miles east of Whitehall, where nothing but barren land lay. There weren’t any side roads off the interstate or homes in the vicinity. I frowned as I read the report.

  “So chances are the vehicle was heading west toward town.”

  “Why would you say that? There’s literally no way to know unless footprints showed up in the dirt.”

  I shrugged. “It seems that a person would leave the body along the closest area of ground. That’s all. An interstate is a wide body of concrete, and to carry or drag a person across six or more lanes of traffic is pretty risky, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s true unless it was in the middle of the night and there wasn’t traffic in sight.”

  “Still, why bother?”

  “Possibly to throw cops off the trail. Make them think the perp was going one way when he was really heading in the opposite direction.”

  I waited while the waitress placed our plates in front of us. Everything looked and smelled delicious.

  “Enjoy. Is there anything else I can get you right now?”

  “Two more glasses of wine,” Renz said.

  “You bet.”

  After the waitress walked away, I told Renz that I agreed with him.

  “What did I say?”

  I chuckled. “That the perp might have put the body on the opposite side of the road to throw the cops off.”

  “Oh yeah. That’s why we need to find out from the first responders if they noticed footprints.”

  “Wouldn’t matter.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there won’t be prints on the concrete, so we wouldn’t know if they crossed the road or were already on that side.”

  “Yeah, right.” Renz rubbed his forehead. “Thinking makes my brain hurt.”

  “Then let’s stop the shop talk and pick it up in the morning. You’re starving anyway, so dig in.”

  A half hour later, I placed my silverware on my plate, wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin, and surrendered to my overstuffed stomach. The meal was great, and as much as I would have liked coffee and dessert, I couldn’t eat another bite. Coffee would have kept me awake half the night, so I passed on that too. Without it, I’d be sound asleep in forty-five minutes and be well-rested and ready for a full day tomorrow.

  “We done?” I asked.

  Renz rubbed his belly. “Yep. I’m pretty sure I am.”

  “Me, too, so let’s settle up. I’m ready to hit the sack.”

  I was in my room by nine thirty and out of the shower and in my pajamas by ten. I fired off a good night text to Amber and switched off the light. The morning would bring some answers. At least, I hoped it would.

  Chapter 5

  Other than a sky full of stars, the night was pitch-black. Cassie sat on a rock outcropping and stared at the sky. It represented the freedom she’d hoped to have with Jolie. That would have been their chance to escape Bart’s terrifying grip on them. Now, as young women, they were old enough, wise enough, and fast enough to take the plunge, but they hadn’t quite made it, and Jolie was dead.

  As she stared at the stars, Cassie prayed for guidance and a safe journey—but to where, she didn’t know. She only cared about finding another human being who wasn’t part of Bart’s ranch or his business enterprise.

  She carried on but couldn’t see more than a foot ahead. Trying to make it over the mountain would be risky in the dark. There was no telling whether wild animals were out prowling or if a sudden drop-off was directly in front of her. The best she could do was find a rock wall to sit against to protect her backside. She wouldn’t have to worry about something or someone sneaking up behind her.

  The temperatures had dropped with the sun, and the night was cold—in the forties, she assumed. Logic told her to curl up tightly like dogs did to keep her core temperature warm. Tomorrow, she would do her best to reach the mountain’s highest ridge and look over to the other side. She prayed to see a road or maybe a city in the distance. If more mountains lay ahead, she would likely die of starvation or exposure, but even that was better than dying at Bart’s hands.

  As she curled up against the rocks at her back, she prayed for daylight, the sun’s warmth, and another chance at survival.

  Chapter 6

  I slept like a rock, and after my morning shower, I was raring to go. I met up with Renz downstairs. Although the restaurants weren’t open for a sit-down meal, their breakfast café served egg sandwiches and a variety of sweet rolls and doughnuts to go. That was a good enough start for me, and with coffees and two bags—one with sandwiches and the other with doughnuts—we checked out of the hotel and were on our way.

  “So, we’re meeting with the Jefferson County deputy sheriff and the two first responders on the scene,” I said after taking the first bite of my bacon-and-egg sandwich.

  “Deputies or EMTs?”

  “Neither. They were police officers. There’s a police station in Whitehall, which we know is only a few miles away, but the official location was beyond the city limits.”

  “Sure, that makes sense, but where’s the sheriff’s office located?”

  “In Boulder, and that’s almost forty minutes north of Whitehall.”

  Renz groaned, and I shrugged. “Can’t help where the city ends and the county takes over.”

  “I know, and that could have been a deliberate act by the killer to create red tape.”

  I stared out the window as the countryside passed by. That area of Montana reminded me of South Dakota—a lot of open country before the mountains took over the landscape. It was beautiful and remote, yet I was sure nature had a way of being wild and dangerous too.

  Renz swatted my shoulder, and I snapped my head toward him. “What was that for?”

  “For not answering me—twice. You daydreaming again?”

  “Sorry. Guess I was enjoying nature and hoping to spot wildlife. What did you say?”

  “I asked if the coroner’s office was in Boulder too?”

  “Let me check. I assume it is, though.” I tapped the question into the search bar on my phone then nodded at Renz when the results popped up. “Yep, it’s in Boulder.”

  “Good. So we’ll talk to the first responders at the site and then probably spend a few hours in Boulder at the sheriff’s and medical examiner’s offices.”

  “Sounds like a plan, partner.” I wiped my greasy fingers onto a paper napkin then balled it up and took a gulp of coffee to wash down that last bite. “That hit the spot. I’m going to save my doughnut for later.”

  “Not me. Pass those bad boys over here.”

  I chuckled and passed the first of two chocolate-covered doughnuts to Renz.

  Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the scene where cars from the sheriff’s office
and the Whitehall PD sat along the shoulder of the interstate. Both vehicles faced east.

  “Hmm… the report said the body was located on the north side of the interstate, but I guess there isn’t a good place to turn around except at the designated exits.”

  “And they could be miles apart. Luckily, the interstate isn’t very busy, and we can jog across the lanes of traffic safely enough.”

  Renz clicked his right blinker and slowed to a stop behind the sheriff’s office cruiser. We climbed out, rounded the front of our rental car, and introduced ourselves to the three men. The first person to speak was Deputy Sheriff Ross Fredricks, who introduced us to Calvin Moss and Larry Tipps, the first responders from Whitehall PD.

  Larry pointed. “The actual spot where we found the body is on the other side of the interstate, but the nearest place to cross over is three miles up the road, closer to Montana Highway 69. If you don’t mind making a run for it, we can show you exactly where the body was found.”

  “Sure, not a problem,” Renz said.

  I’d learned my lesson years back and never wore high heels on the job. I was tall enough anyway and didn’t need them. With a nod, I said I was ready, too, and we all ran to the other side of the interstate.

  Less than ten feet off the shoulder, an orange evidence flag remained jammed in the dirt and showed exactly where the young male had been located. Nothing around that spot made it seem better than any other place to dump a body. As far as the eye could see, the landscape was the same. A few miles to our backs was Whitehall, and the same distance ahead of us was a frontage road that ran alongside the freeway. Beyond that were other small towns. That side of the freeway faced mountains, and the side where the cars were parked overlooked green farmland. Farther out and in the distance, mountains stood on that side too.

  “So it looks like we’re between mountain ranges,” I said.

  “Yep. Mountains surround us on all sides, and there are a few roads that go into the foothills for a ways and then dead-end before you get anywhere,” the deputy sheriff said.