No ugly chickens pecked in the dirt. The old man’s pickup sat in the driveway. There were no other vehicles. No shotgun-toting man in overalls met them at the gate this day. Three strands of scrap wire held the gate closed. The fence post wobbled when they began untwisting the wire. The little farm appeared abandoned as they lifted the gate and set it aside. They walked in, leaving their vehicles parked on the road. A line of heavily armed deputies fanned out behind Tony.
If anything, Tony thought the corn and tobacco looked more pitiful than ever.
Echoing his thoughts, Wade said, “Parker needs to water his garden.” Bending over, he poked a finger into the dirt. “It’s dying of thirst in this weather.”
Tony nodded. Maybe he was punchy from a lack of sleep. The little patch of land gave him the creeps. What else had to die? What was buried beneath it?
A sudden rustling in a shrub snapped their heads around. Guns pointed, they watched a spotted hog emerge from the underbrush and amble past. It didn’t even seem to see them. A whisper reached his ears. “We could have a pig roast later.”
“With a skinny pig?” Tony pointed to the animal’s ribs. “Who would eat a skinny pig?”
Tony and Wade led their group to the front of the house. Mike took another group around back. Radios tuned to the same band kept the groups in touch.
The boards of the porch sagged, just like the roof overhang above. The door was latched from the outside with another piece of wire, wrapped around a pair of long, rusting nails.
Wade began untwisting it. Tony stood, shotgun raised, pointing through a broken windowpane. “Nelson Parker.”
A faint but human cry was the only answer.
Accompanied by the borrowed SWAT team, they surged into the main room. It was half kitchen, half living space. No one. Two closed doors were set into the opposite wall.
A flick of a wrist turned the knob of the first. The door swung inward. Sparsely furnished and surprisingly tidy, it appeared to be Nelson’s bedroom. A threadbare quilt covered a sagging mattress. Instead of a closet, a row of hooks held the old man’s extra overalls and shirts. There was no place to hide.
The cry came again.
They opened the next door. Either the floor was warped or the door was. It screeched as it dragged and opened halfway before sticking. The room was bare except for a cot and a bright green and yellow playpen.
Standing, hanging onto the edge of the playpen with one hand, a baby boy gurgled and waved a soggy cracker in his other hand. From the smell of it, his diaper needed changing.
Wade snapped a handful of photographs before Tony approached the playpen. With the ease of long practice, Tony reached over and lifted the little guy, careful not to smudge any possible fingerprints on the playpen or get dirtied by the infant.
An open package of diapers sat in the corner along with some baby wipes. Tony cleaned the baby and discarded the dirty diaper and soiled shirt, putting them into an empty grocery bag. He tied a knot in the open end of the plastic grocery bag, hoping to keep the stench down. The baby didn’t seem hungry or upset. He was quickly intrigued by the shiny gold badge attached to Tony’s shirt and reached for it with sticky fingers.
“He hasn’t been alone long.” Tony offered his opinion. “There’s no sign of a rash. He’s pretty laid-back about the whole thing.”
“How’d she get away?”
“I can answer that.” Mike’s voice rattled through the radio. “We’ve got a small still up here, maybe fifty yards from the house.” The radio crackled. “There’s a tunnel, too, that shows signs of recent usage.”
“Fabulous.” Tony never expected this to be easy but couldn’t they catch a break?
“Sheriff?” Mike’s voice came again. “I’ll go through the tunnel, I’m not sure you’ll pick up my transmissions.”
“No. I don’t like it.” Tony propped the baby into the crook of his arm. “Vicky or Nelson or both of them could be in there, waiting for you. You wouldn’t stand a chance against a shotgun blast in a tunnel. Come up with a better plan.”
“Okay, sir. We’ll get back to you in a minute.” He paused. “Did I understand correctly? Does Vicky have a baby?”
“I doubt it.” Tony stared down into a face that looked like it belonged in a baby food ad. The baby grinned, exposing four little teeth, and tried to bite into Tony’s badge. “I’ll bet this is the baby missing from the shopping mall in Charlotte.”
“At least someone will have good news today.” Mike cleared his throat. “What are you going to do with him?”
“I’m going to get Ruth Ann to come up here with a car seat and a couple of deputies. I want Doc Nash to come, too. After he checks the baby, I want him to be on hand when we open that freezer, if it’s here.”
“It’s here. I think I passed it on the way to the still. It’s covered with a bunch of stuff, but you can’t hide the shape.”
“Leave someone, several someones at the still in case someone pops out. You come back, Mike,” Tony said. “You can show us the freezer. I’ll borrow a robot if we need it to search underground.”
Tony and Wade waited until Doc Nash declared the infant as fit to travel in a car seat. Minutes later, Ruth Ann, the baby and two escort vehicles headed for town.
Doc Nash looked as if he’d like to follow them. No one seemed anxious to proceed. They stalled for about five minutes before making their way, single file, following Mike around the side of the house to the site of the old shed. He pointed to his discovery.
The freezer sat exactly where Harrison had sworn it would be.
With the building gone, hauled off to Claude Marmot’s home, the freezer sat in the open. Even so, if they hadn’t known where to look, they might have missed it during a casual search of the property. Someone had attempted to camouflage the thing. Not only was it draped with an olive-drab canvas tarp, but a few cut branches and some loose dirt had been scattered on the lid. The bottom of the once-white freezer sat on packed earth that blended with the rust, the color of autumn maple leaves, creeping upward from the ground.
Photographs were taken before they carefully removed the tarp, exposing an ancient full-size chest-type freezer.
A shiny new, stainless steel padlock held it closed. Fingerprints, if any, would most likely be found on the lock.
Wade waved his magic dusting brush. Nothing. Not even a creature had left a mark. It was anybody’s guess when the lock was added. It had to be sometime after Harrison moved the body to McMahon Park. Three months to three minutes.
Armed with a pair of industrial-strength bolt cutters, they managed to cut the lock off and dropped it into an evidence bag. Maybe something would turn up under the microscope. Maybe the state lab people could find some special clue that would prove the case and land them on a television forensics show.
“No more stalling,” said Tony. “We might as well do it.”
Wade nodded and tried the lid. It didn’t budge. Mike added his muscle. Without warning, the hinges, rotten with rust, broke and the lid slid down the back, crashing into the packed earth with an ominous thud.
Nelson Parker stared up at them. Even enclosed in a large sheet of heavy, clear plastic like a disposable drop cloth, he was recognizable, right down to his overalls. Whoever had wrapped him up had used a lot of silver duct tape, until the body resembled an Egyptian mummy.
The wrapping wasn’t airtight. As quickly as the door fell, the putrid stench of hot, decaying flesh rose like steam in the sultry air. Shocked and sickened, Mike and Wade jumped back, out of range. Doc Nash stood like a statue staring at the body.
Wade jogged away before pausing for his ceremonial upchuck.
Tony walked away, sucking in deep breaths of fresh air through his mouth, trying to avoid joining his deputy puking in the brush. He stopped and studied the body from a distance. He was damned sick and tired of looking at corpses.
It didn’t take a great mind or a pathologist to see that Nelson’s body hadn’t been here long. As hot as the weather was, Tony guessed maybe only a day or two. He glanced at the ground. Who could guess how much evidence they’d trampled?
“Well, that’s not what I expected to see in there.” The doctor sounded as weary as Tony felt. “What do you suppose is under him?”
“I can see fingerprints on the plastic.” Wade pulled out his camera again and began taking a series of photographs. He took care not to inhale near the remains. “We should leave him there until we can process the scene.”
Tony nodded. “If only we knew where the scene is.” He gestured widely. “We’ve trampled every damn inch of this place, and I want to know what’s underneath Mr. Parker. Now.”
Four borrowed deputies arrived just in time to help. Looking like they’d prefer to leave, they watched as Wade and Mike put on double layers of gloves and lifted Nelson, still in his plastic shroud, and lowered him into a body bag. The moment the zipper closed, they all inhaled.
“He’s as skinny as his pig,” said Wade.
Mike nodded. “The old guy weighs nothing. My granny could lift him.”
Tony leaned forward, looking into the freezer and saw an assortment of bone and some bits, maybe mummified remains. Harrison’s claim of three more bodies in there was incorrect. Tony could see five skulls.
Tony began punching the buttons on his cell. He needed lots of help.
Tony called the Feds. He wanted them to come collect the older remains. If they were in fact the remains of the murders committed in the national park, those murders had taken place on federal soil and they should process the scene, or at least help, and then prosecute. He didn’t care who took the bodies and the case—the FBI, the National Park Service, or the CIA.
He stared at the body bag. It felt like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
No matter how he looked at the problem, Nelson Parker’s murder was his to deal with. It was easy enough to figure out who had stuffed him into the freezer. It was not so easy to guess why. In the long run the why wasn’t the issue. Guesses wouldn’t convict a stray dog much less a wily murderer.
They needed proof.
Tony stood in Theo’s office, wondering how long they could maintain the charade of her death. The ringing phone snapped him into the present.
“We have Vicky Parker’s whereabouts, sir.” Rex’s voice boomed from Tony’s tiny phone.
“Where is she?” He felt Theo’s hand on his arm and looked down. His wife’s face was pale and concerned. He squeezed her hand. “Is she alone?”
“No.”
Tony thought Rex sounded agitated. Not at all like Rex.
“She’s in Doreen’s Flower and Gift Shoppe. From what I gather, she went into Doreen’s to get a bridal bouquet.” Rex cleared his throat. “The Queen asked who the groom was and when Vicky said it was you, Doreen laughed in her face. I guess it’s turning into a real cat fight.”
“Not good.” Tony was appalled and afraid of what might happen. Vicky was as volatile as gasoline and Doreen might be the flame to ignite it. “Calvin didn’t explain the situation to his wife?”
“I guess not, or if he did, she forgot about it. There’s more.”
“What?” Tony headed for the stairs, thinking Rex sounded scared.
“There’s a high school girl in the back room. She’s the one who called. Her name’s Chandra Wilson. I still have her on the line.” He cleared his throat. “Sir, she’s my sister’s oldest girl.”
Tony felt like if it weren’t for bad luck, they’d have none at all. “Keep her on the phone and keep her calm, and for heaven’s sake tell her not to make any noise.”
Tony tried to visualize the interior of the shop. It wasn’t a place he often entered and if he was inside, he was usually looking for the way out. There was stuff everywhere and he was just too big to feel like he wasn’t about to knock everything over. Literally a bull in a china cabinet.
He did know the general layout. The front doors were set in the center of the narrow end of the rectangular building. Just inside those doors was the counter and cash register. Myriad floor-to-ceiling glass shelves held everything from fine crystal to key rings that looked like Hollywood versions of outhouses. In the back of the shop was a bank of tall coolers filled with fresh flowers and another counter. To the right of the cooler was the door that connected it with the mortuary. To the left was a short hallway that held restrooms, Doreen’s office and the door into the stockroom. A door from there opened into the parking lot.
Entering from the front seemed out of the question. Mortuary or stockroom? Tony weighed the pros and cons as he ran from Theo’s shop.
“I’m sending everyone I can find. Should be about twenty vehicles arriving soon. Do you want them to hold back?”
“Yes. I don’t want Vicky looking out those windows and seeing anything different. Have them fan around the back and park on the mortuary end.” He began to hear voices on the radio. “Keep Chandra on the phone line with you and tell her to stay in the back room unless she is absolutely positive she can get into the mortuary safely. I don’t think she’s near the connecting door.”
After a moment’s pause, Rex answered, “She says she’s stuck in there and is crawling into a corner behind some boxes of pots and pans.”
“Smart girl.” Tony exhaled sharply. “She should be as safe there as anywhere. Make sure everyone knows her location.”
Tony stopped next to the Blazer and stared up at the Cashdollar businesses. With summer traffic and the desire for the element of surprise, he took off running. It would be faster. Sure enough, there was a veritable parade of law enforcement vehicles headed toward Doreen’s. A borrowed SWAT van parked off to one side. Tony thought it would be a great time to rob a bank. Every town and county in the eastern half of the state had sent at least one car and one cop. Some had sent more.
When this was over, he’d owe more favors than he could pay in a lifetime.
A Sevier County car rolled to a stop next to him and Tony jumped in. “Drive around back.”