“So, Red River has a population of about fifteen hundred people,” Burke read from his phone. “It’s just south of the Menominee Reservation and near Jung Hemlock-Beech Forest State Natural Area, which covers about eighty acres and looks to be the largest wooded area in the vicinity, excluding the reservation. Though a lot of the area is intermittently wooded.”
“Yeah, we’ll rule out the reservation for the potential site of this alleged prepper group, as I think we’re all on the same page that they’d have some sort of site, if even it’s just some buildings or shelters someplace most likely hidden in the woods or someplace else that’s remote,” Wilson agreed.
“Well, looking at the topography of the area, it all looks remote,” Burke said. “There’s no big towns nearby, so I’m not sure where these supposed preppers are coming from, unless it’s a tiny group.” He shook his head, feeling as though this mission was a waste of time.
Four hours later, as they arrived in Red River, pulling up into the little parking lot of the Red River Tavern on County Highway A, they discovered how remote it was. There was little else in the area where Google Maps had proclaimed they were at their destination in the town of Red River. Angel booked rooms for them at a motel ten minutes away in the city of Shawano, which had a population of around nine thousand and was the largest town nearby.
From the tavern, they easily found the address of the client, forty-one-year-old Valerie Butler. Wilson pulled to a stop across from the ranch home, which was set back from the road a good hundred yards. Its long gravel driveway curved around a few mature oak trees in the front yard. The nearest neighbors on both sides were nearly half a mile away. Behind the house was a large outbuilding with a field of planted crops behind it.
“Well, so much for surveillance of the residence,” Wilson said. “We can’t very well park on this road to observe anything.”
Burke looked around. Across the street was a field which looked as though it had been planted with low to the ground winter wheat. There would be no concealing a person there. “We could set up a motion-sensor camera pointed at the house in the field. It’s unlikely the farmer would be visiting the field until spring,” he said.
“And we could put a camera at the turnoff of Highway A onto this street as well,” Tessman added.
“Yeah, we could probably install the camera at the intersection now but will have to hold off until nighttime to plant the one in the field,” Wilson agreed.
“We could look in some windows tonight too,” Burke said as Wilson slowly drove past the house. “And when we know it’s vacant, we could get a few bugs planted inside, maybe a camera or two as well.”
“First, I want to try to make contact with our client,” Wilson said. “To get her story face to face.”
“And see if it’s obvious that she’s either lying or batshit crazy,” Moe added.
“A person would have to be really shitty to lie about something like this,” Rogers said. “Either trying to jack a guy up or set up some weird ass drama.”
“Well, one thing’s for sure: we’re going to stick out in this area, as I’m sure they all know each other. The file says our clientworks at a medical center in Shawano. We’ll have a better time blending in there,” Burke said.
“Agreed,” Wilson said. “We’ll go to Shawano and try to acquire our client at her place of employment.”
They did stop at the intersection and quickly planted a motion sensor camera on the stop sign. This would give them a good idea of the comings and goings on the road where the client’s house was. Then Wilson pointed the car east towards Shawano.
Shawano was a decent-sized town. It had stoplights, drive-thru banks and fast-food restaurants, gas stations, grocery stores, hotels. There was even a municipal airport. And there were several urgent care centers. They easily found the one Valerie Butler worked at. In the lot behind the building, which was loosely designated as the employee parking lot, they found her 2022 black Jeep Cherokee. Wilson backed into the parking spot beside it so they could keep eyes on the building.
“Tessman and Burke,” Wilson said. “Go inside and take a look around for our client.”
“If we find her, do you want us to make contact with her?” Burke asked.
“Sure, why not?” Wilson said. “But don’t let on that the team consists of more than the two of you.”
Burke and Tessman got out of the vehicle and walked around to the front entrance of the urgent care center. Burke took anotherlook at the client from the file on his phone, from her Wisconsin Driver’s License photo. His gaze swept over every woman in scrubs in sight, assuming Valerie Butler would be wearing scrubs because she worked as an advanced nurse practitioner.
“James Winter,” a husky woman’s voice called.
Burke’s eyes went to the woman with dark hair and oversized glasses on her face. He was staring at Valerie Butler.
“James Winter,” she called again.
No one in the seats in the waiting area answered, nor did anyone stand. “Here, sorry, ma’am,” Burke said, and then he quickly walked towards her, Tessman in tow.
She led them through the doors into the treatment area of the clinic and into a private room half-way down the hallway. Tessman closed the door behind himself after he’d entered the small room. She merely glanced at him, not really questioning why he was there or why he’d closed the door.
“Do you go by James or Jim?” Valerie asked.
“Actually, it’s Rich,” Burke said.
A confused expression settled on her face, and she glanced down at the name on the tablet she held. “You’re not James Winter?”
“No, ma’am,” Burke said. “We’re here because of the online form for help you completed,” he said in a whisper. “I’m Rich, and this is my partner, Carter.”
