Chapter Nine
Thursday, March 22nd
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. Wes awoke to the shrill sound and flashing light of his phone. The message readFire near South Gate, fence line 100 feet from roadway. Fire Department called.
He jumped into jeans and a sweater. After tying his boots, he grabbed his phone and ID tag and ran to his truck. The ride along the south roadway was short. He could see flames and flashlights. After parking out of the way of any arriving fire apparatus, he ran toward the fire.
“Mr. Crockett, it’s bad,” Adrian Hawkes, another security supervisor, said, stopping him from advancing.
“I don’t understand. I thought it was one of the cabins.”
“Sir, there’s a body.” Hawkes started walking toward the flames as firetrucks’ sirens screamed in the distance, the sound growing louder.
Yellow and orange light illuminated the night as the cabin burned. Flames consumed what was left of the dried wood. Beside it was a tall stake with a charred body attached, still smoking.
Wes took a breath and opened his phone. “This is Crockett; I’ve got a crime scene on the south fence line. Seal all entrances, two forms of identification.” He turned to Adrian. “Seal the scene.”
Wes frowned and made a succession of calls. First to the police, second to TJ Poole in the supervisor’s office. “I’ve got a body on the south property line. Can’t ID. Double the security on every building. Wake O’Mara; have him take Zulu Team and check everyone on the property. I need to know if anyone is missing. Then wake up Kenny and come down here.”
Third call was to Christian, and the fourth to Troy.” He thought about his conversation with Cabe Baldwin. He hadn’t heard back from technical analysis yet after sending them Cabe’s file.
After the fire department quenched the flames easily, the fire chief stood beside Wes. “Fire was definitely arson. I’ve called the fire marshal’s office. We will wait until the sheriff’s office clears entry.”
As the smoke from the fire died down, all that was left was the acrid odor of burned flesh. Brakes squealed. Christian, TJ, Ken, Troy and the remaining senior supervisors joined him.
“Sweet mother of God,” Troy said. “Same building as this morning?”
“Yeah. We need to check the camera.” Wes pinched his brow.
“Looks like whoever did this came through our neighbor’s property,” TJ said after surveying the area. “And, Boss, they got the camera.” He held the smashed device in his leather-gloved hands.
“TJ, Ken, go wake up our neighbor, Dixon Knolls. Chris, cross the property line and see if you can find anything,” Wes asked.
Red and blue lights flashed as three sheriff’s cars arrived on the scene. Wes walked to meet the man in charge and speak with him privately. “Wes Crockett.” He extended his hand.
“Lieutenant Keith Hartung, Homicide. What do you have going on out here? Dispatch was missing some information.”
“I think you’ll understand when you see.” Wes blew out an anxious breath, then led the way to the body.
Hartung’s face contorted. “Can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman. I wonder if there is enough marrow to get a DNA match. If so, I will put it into CODIS. Once the coroner tells me if it’s a man or woman, I’ll put the crime into a VICAP search. Crime scene is on the way. Your people haven’t touched anything?”
“No. I sealed the scene. I’m also tracking down all my personnel to see if anyone is missing.” He chose not to mention his morning look at the cabin, nor Cabe Baldwin’s report.
“Thank you. You don’t have any idea why someone would want to do this here?” the lieutenant asked.
“No, Chase Security International closed on this part of the property in February. I haven’t begun to explore the possibilities of this part of the purchase.” Wes stared at the ghastly scene.
“That puts us both at a disadvantage.” He shook his head. “A heads up, the sheriff will be by at some point.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“Just a difference between elected and rank and file, I suppose. I came down here five years ago after retiring from NYPD to help take care of my mom. It’s a different world.”
Wes watched him carefully. In the morning, he would call Zach Wentworth, the head of their domestic law enforcement division located in New York. “Once you decide I’m not your murderer, I’ll be happy to help any way I can. Let me introduce you to my people.”
Keith Hartung raised an eyebrow at Wes’s comment.
* * *
