Authors: Terri Reid
“Where the in the
world is this path leading?” Mary asked. She brushed another corn stalk out of
her face as they rode down the narrow path.
“It’s going to the
river,” Bradley shouted over the roar of the ATV’s engine. The high-end,
four-seater vehicle had superior suspension and drove over the bumpy cornfield
like a dream.
Bradley slowly
maneuvered the vehicle to the other side of the road to avoid hitting a small
bump in the road.
Mary looked down at
the speedometer from her vantage point in the passenger’s seat. “Bradley,
you’re only going five miles an hour,” she exclaimed. “This baby can fly
through this field. Open her up.”
He turned to her.
“I’m not risking you or the baby for some crazy ride in a cornfield,” he said.
“Bradley, it was
bumpier riding in the cruiser on the gravel road on the way up here,” she said.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Mary, we’re not in
a race here,” he said.
“But we want to be
back before dark,” she replied, and then she looked around. “Do you know where
we are?”
He paused for a
moment before answering. “Yes,” he finally said. “It’s a short cut. I know
where I’m going.”
She shook her head.
“Oh, no, that’s man code for you are totally lost,” she said. “We should turn
around and get directions.”
Bradley shook his
head. “Well, we haven’t hit water yet, so I think we’re on the right path.”
“I think you took a
wrong turn at the V in the road,” Mary said, looking over her shoulder, “when
you were watching out for bumps. We are driving in the middle of a corn field.
Mr. McIntyre didn’t say anything about a corn field.”
“His whole farm is
a cornfield,” Bradley argued, inadvertently pressing on the gas pedal as he
turned to Mary. “Of course he didn’t say anything about it. That would be
redundant.”
“You still should
let me drive,” she said. “I have more experience.”
“You grew up in
Chicago,” he responded. “How could you have more experience?”
“I never got lost
in the forest preserves,” she replied. “I never got lost on the lakefront. I
never got lost—”
“Mary, I’m not lost,” Bradley interrupted. “I
know exactly where I—”
“Bradley! Stop!”
she screamed as they suddenly burst from the cornfield and onto the narrow bank
of the river.
Bradley turned the
ATV sharply, sending a spray of muddy river water onto Mary. Her face
splattered with drops of mud, she turned to Bradley, streams of water flowing
down her face. “You knew exactly where you were going?” she asked. “So you
planned this?”
Pulling a
handkerchief from his pocket, he gently wiped the mud from around her eyes. She
could see that he was having a hard time containing his laughter. “Would you
believe I knew where I was going, but I just got there faster than I planned?”
he asked her.
“No,” she replied
decisively. “I would not believe that.”
He leaned forward
and kissed her dirty forehead. “Would you believe I’m sorry?”
Lifting her hands
to the sides of his face, she held him in place as she leaned forward and
rubbed her cheek against his, sharing her dirt with him. She leaned back and
smiled. “Okay, now I believe you’re sorry,” she said.
He reached up and
felt the mud. “Thanks for sharing,” he replied.
She grinned.
“Anytime.”
“Hey, are you okay
over there?” a man’s voice called from the other side of the river.
Oh, great
, Mary thought,
of course someone would be here to see me
covered in mud.
“We’re fine,” Mary
called back.
“Who are you
talking to?” Bradley asked.
Eyes widening, she
looked at Bradley and then slowly turned and looked across the river. A man
dressed in blue jeans and a muddy work shirt stood on the opposite bank. He was
about six feet tall, had brown hair and a bullet hole in the middle of his
forehead. Mary grabbed Bradley’s arm with one hand and pointed to the man across
the river with the other.
“What the hell?”
Bradley asked when he saw him.
They climbed off
the ATV and walked to the edge of the bank. “Hi,” Mary called. “Can we help
you?”
The man shook his
head. “No, it’s too late to help me,” he said. “I don’t want to alarm you or
anything, but I’m dead.”
Mary nodded. “Yes,
we actually noticed that,” she said. “How did it happen?”
“I got shot,” the
man shouted back.
“Yes, I noticed
that, too,” Mary replied, and then she turned to Bradley. “This is Police Chief
Alden. Do you want to report a crime?”
“You’re a cop?” the
man yelled at Bradley.
“Yes, I’m a cop,”
Bradley called back.
“Well, I’ve got
some information for you,” he said. “Can you come over to this side of the
river? I hate shouting because someone might hear us.”
Bradley glanced at
Mary, and they shared a sad smile. “Actually,” Mary said, “it might be easier
for you to come over to us. Just think about crossing the river.”
The man stared at
Mary, his hands on his hips, and shook his head. “I’ve never been a water guy,”
he said. “I don’t think—”
Suddenly he
disappeared and then just as quickly reappeared a few feet from the ATV. “Hey!”
he cried, surprised. Then he gazed around. “Well, cool.”
Disembarking from
the ATV, Mary and Bradley walked over to him.
“Hi, I’m Mary,” she
said. “And, as I mentioned earlier, this is Bradley.”
He held out his
hand to shake, but unfortunately, it glided through Mary’s hand. He jumped
back. “Whoa,” he said. “That’s creepy.”
Mary nodded. “Yeah,
it takes a little getting used to. So, who are you?”
“Oh, sorry, I’m
Bill, Bill Patterson,” he said. “I own…well, I used to own Patterson
Construction in Dubuque.”
“Hi. Bill,” she
replied. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you die?”
“I got shot,” he
said.
“Yes, that’s what I
thought,” Mary replied. “But perhaps you could fill us in on the details.”
“Oh, yeah, right,
the details,” Bill said. “Okay, well, we took this job over the river.”
“Over
the river?”
Bradley asked.
“Yeah, it was in
Illinois, I’m a licensed contractor in Iowa, so, really, I’m not supposed to be
working over the river,” Bill explained.
“Okay, got it,”
Bradley said. “So you took this job, and it was under the table.”
“Yeah, it was a
cash job,” he said.
“No contracts, no invoices, nothing.
Strictly do the work and get the cash. I even told the office we were going
fishing in Wisconsin. I figured it was like Christmas money for the four of
us.”
“There were four of
you?” Mary asked. “Are the other guys okay?”
He shook his head
and sighed. “No, they got shot, too,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“And I’m to blame. I got my buddies killed.”
“How?”
Bradley asked.
He took another
deep breath. “So, I’m redoing this barn for a minister and his wife,” he began.
“Excuse me,”
Bradley interrupted. “Did you say a minister and his wife?”
“Yeah, but they
didn’t look like church people to me, and they didn’t sound like church people
when they spoke to each other,” he said. “I should have listened to my gut. My
gut is never wrong.”
“What did your gut
tell you?” Mary asked.
“That these two
were up to no good,” he replied. “I mean why does a minister need a
state-of-the-art sound stage with satellite hookups and everything out in the
middle of nowhere?”
“What did they tell
you?” Bradley asked.
“They told me they
were going to broadcast their sermons worldwide and bring the good news to
third world countries,” he said. “Sounded good at first, but then I got to
thinking. What kind of third world countries got Internet hookups to watch
sermons in the first place? Know what I mean?”
“So, what happened
to you?” Mary encouraged. “Why do you think you got your friends killed?”
“So, we left for
the night, and I’m nearly to the bridge when I realize I left my cell phone
back at the work site,” he said. “I drive back and don’t want to bother nobody,
so I turn off my truck lights when I get to the driveway and quietly drive back
to the barn. I go inside and find my phone just where I left it, next to the
table saw. So I pick it up and turn to leave when I notice there's a light
coming from the other side of the room, the control room. I quietly sneak over
there and I see the minister and his wife reviewing a film they’ve made. I
figure it might be interesting to peek at the film, I mean the minister’s wife
was not a bad looking woman.”.”
He paused and
looked back over the river. “What I saw,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.
“What I saw the minister do to that little Hispanic girl. It was revolting. It
was beyond revolting. I should have called the police. I should have reported
him right then and there.”
“But you didn’t?”
Bradley asked.
“I figured it was
too late for the kid,” he admitted. “I could tell she was dead by the time the
film was finished. So, I figured we’d all come the next day, get our gear, and
then call the cops. You know, don’t leave any evidence that we were there.”
Mary nodded.
“Because it was an over the
river deal
.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Exactly.
I thought I was pretty quiet when I drove out of
there. I drove about a mile, then pulled over and
barfed
my guts up. I called the guys and told them that we were going to pull out the
next day, but I didn’t tell them why.”
“How did they find
out?” Bradley asked.
“Hell if I know,”
Bill replied. “We show up the next morning, acting like nothing’s wrong, and
the little lady comes out. She’s carrying a basket like she’s bringing us a
treat, but it’s got a gun inside. She pulls it out, and she’s smiling. And
we’re backing away, screaming at her. But she doesn’t even flinch. Bang, bang,
bang, bang. Like shooting fish in a barrel,
me
and the
guys are dead.”
“And you never got
to talk to the police,” Mary said, realizing the reason Bill hadn’t crossed
over.
“Yeah, I never got
a chance,” he said. “And I’ve been watching them. They’ve been doing more of
that stuff. They got a bunch of graves back in the woods. They went out again
today, and I think they’re trying to get another kid.”
“Well Bill, you’ve
just reported it to the police,” Bradley said. “And I have a friend in the FBI
who has been looking for these two. Thanks, Bill. You may have saved a little
girl’s life.”
“You guys want me
to show you the house and the barn?” he asked. “There are all kinds of secret
panels and stuff like that inside.”
Mary started to
agree, but Bradley caught her arm and shook his head. “As much as we’d like to
head over there and investigate, unless we get a search warrant and do this the
right way, these two could get off on a technicality,” he said. “And I’m not
willing to risk that.”
Mary sighed.
Bradley was right. “I have to agree,” Mary said. “But they don’t have any
children there right now, do they?”
Bill shook his
head. “
Naw
, they went for a first meeting today,” he
said. “If they follow their pattern, they’ll either bring the girl back tonight
or go back and get her tomorrow afternoon. It
don’t
seem to take too long for whatever process they use.”
“I’ll call my
friend, and we’ll get back here as soon as we can,” Bradley promised.
“You don’t mind if
I stick around, do you?” Bill asked. “I could maybe help you in the raid.”
Bradley,
instinctively barring a civilian from being in on a raid, started to shake his
head.
“Bradley,” Mary
whispered, interrupting him. “Remember, Bill’s dead.”
Pausing
mid-comment, Bradley shook his head slightly. “One of these days I’m going to
get used to this,” he said and then he turned to Bill. “Yes, I would really
appreciate your expertise on the raid.”
“Okay, I’ll be
watching for you,” Bill said, slowly fading away. “Thanks, Chief.”
“Chris, this is
Bradley,” Bradley said into his cell phone as he stood next to his cruiser in
Mr. McIntyre’s driveway. “I have a…a trustworthy source that has identified the
minister and his wife and the soundstage they use for web streaming.”
Mary sat in a chair
on the front porch watching his expression as he spoke.
“Here you go, young
lady,” Mr. McIntyre said, handing Mary a damp hand cloth. “That’ll take some of
those mud freckles off your face.”
Smiling up at him,
Mary wiped away the remaining traces of mud and handed it back to him. “Good as
new,” she said.
He looked her over
and shook his head. “Well, if you’re planning on going anywhere but home, I’d
suggest you put a jacket over your blouse.”
Looking down, Mary
saw that the “mud freckles” extended all the way down the front of her shirt.
“That’s the last time I let him drive,” she muttered.
Mr. McIntyre
chuckled. “There’s just something about men and ATVs,” he said.
“Turns ‘
em
all into boys again.”
He looked over at
Bradley. “So, did you find what you were looking for?” he asked.
Mary nodded. “And
then some,” she replied. “And your help has been invaluable. Thanks for letting
us search your property.”
Bradley tucked his
phone into his pocket, and Mary took that as a signal to stand up. “Thanks
again,” she repeated.
“No problem,” the
older man said. “You just call if you need any other help.”
Mary walked over to
the cruiser while Bradley waved goodbye to Mr. McIntyre, and a moment later
they were driving down his narrow driveway back to the road.
“So?” Mary asked.
“Chris is going to
pull together a group using local law enforcement and some of the guys from the
Chicago office,” he said. “He’d like to hit the house early in the morning
before they leave.”
“Okay, so where do
we meet him?” she asked.
He paused and just
looked at her for a moment.
“No,” she said
before he could comment. “You are not going to ask me to stay home. I realize
the danger; I’ve been on raids before. I’ll wear Kevlar if it will make you
happy. But I am the only one who can communicate with Bill, and that could give
us vital information to catch them.”
Sighing, he nodded
and looked forward, tightening his jaw. “I don’t like it,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” she
replied. “But you mostly don’t like it because I’m right.”
He nodded slowly.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Sorry,” she said.
“You can ask Chris to keep us together on the raid if that will make you feel
better.”
“Yeah, it will,” he
said. “And I already did.”
“Good. I was hoping
you would,” she said, sliding her hand over to lay on his. “I want to lock
these two up and throw away the key.”
“Yeah, if there was
ever a crime that warranted the death penalty, this would be it,” Bradley said.
“But since Illinois is a no death penalty state, I hope they put them somewhere
dark and deep and never let them see the light of day.”
Mary sat up
straighter in her seat. “Oh, that reminds me,” she said, quickly pulling out
her phone and checking the time. “It’s still early afternoon, would you mind if
we stopped in Galena?”
“Sure, no problem,”
Bradley said as he turned onto Highway 20. “Where would you like to go?”
She smiled over at
him. “My favorite place to spend an afternoon,” she said.
“The
police department of course.”