He gulped his black coffee but only managed a small bite of the blueberry muffin. His stomach was still tense from the hospital, the victim and her dying words: There are others.
Whatre we facing here?
Hed alerted his sergeant and lieutenant. They definitely had a suspicious death. Confirming the victims ID would be critical. A forensic odontologist from Syracuse was en route to make the victims dental chart. Theyd submit and compare everything-height, weight, approximate age, X-rays, DNA-with all the regional and state databases, missing persons cases, and check her teeth with dental associations and with the New York State Police.
Sooner or later well get an ID on her. Then Ill have to tell her family the worst news theyre ever going to hear.
He hated that part of the job.
As Brennan drove along the highway he focused on his case. Theyd need to pull in Ramparts other detectives to help. The sun was climbing, which was good because they had to scour that scene. He figured the state police Forensic Identification Unit would be there by now.
Rampart PD often drew on the resources of the New York State Police or the FBI because, as a small jurisdiction, Rampart didnt get many homicides, maybe five or six a year.
You need challenging cases to make you a better detective. Brennan considered the forest rolling by. Like my life.
He was thirty-four and had been with the department for ten years, the past five as a detective with the investigative unit.
At times he yearned to be with the FBI, the DEA or Homeland, something bigger. But his wife, Marie, a teacher, loved their small-town life, saying it was good for Cody. Their son was five and prone to seizures if he got a fever or was overly stressed.
It didnt happen often, but when it did, it was frightening.
The other day when they were all shopping together at Walmart, Brennan realized that what he had here was good. But when he considered that his last major case was bingo fraud, small-town life got to him. Especially after the weekend call from his high school buddy who was with the Secret Service.
Hows it going there, Ed? Im protecting the vice president in Paris next week. Are you still chasing the Amish in Ram Town?
Brennan knew that Cody needed the quiet of a small town, but that call had left him reflective.
A cluster of local media vehicles had gathered at the entrance to the burial grounds, which was blocked by a state patrol car. Recognizing Brennan, the trooper waved him through. Brennan ignored questions reporters tossed at his window.
His Chevy rolled alongside the cemetery, then dipped and swayed when he cut into the forest on the old path, which had widened from the increasing traffic. As he reached the scene, the air smelled of burned wood. Smoke curled from the ruins, floating over the clearing in clouds that pulsed with emergency lights from the fire and police units at the site. Brennan parked and went to Paul Dickson, a Rampart detective, and Rob Martin, the first officer to respond. They were huddled with the state guys and firefighters. Brennan, who had the lead on this case, knew most of them and did a round of handshakes.
Hey, Ed, Dickson said. We heard she didnt make it.
No, Brennan said before shifting to work. What do we have so far?
Consulting their notes, Dickson and Martin brought him up to speed. The fire had cooled enough for the forensic guys to suit up. At the same time, Brennan heard a yip and saw the cadaver dog, and its handler in white coveralls and shoe covers, head carefully into the destruction while, overhead, a small plane circled. The state police were taking aerial photos of the scene and mapping it.
The teens who found her are asleep in my car, waiting to talk to you, Martin told Brennan.
Okay, Ill get to them in a bit for formal statements.
The barn was state property built in 1901 as part of the farm that grew food for the asylum before it was shut down in 1975 and abandoned.
Brennan took in the piles of rubble, the stone foundation and watched Trooper Dan Larco with Sheba, a German shepherd, probing the scene. As she poked her snout here and there in the blackened debris, her tail wagged in happy juxtaposition to the grim task.
Sheba barked and disappeared into a tangle of wood at one corner. Larco moved after her, lowering himself to inspect her discovery.
Hey, Ed! he called. We got something! Better take a look!
Brennan pulled on coveralls and shoe covers, then waded cautiously into the wreckage.
The charred victim was positioned on its back beneath a web of burned timber. Most of the skin and clothing were gone. The arms were drawn up in the pugilistic attitude. The face was burned off, exposing teeth in a deaths head grin. From the remnants of jeans and boots on the lower body, it appeared the victim was male.
Brennan made notes, sketched the scene and took pictures. The forensic unit would process everything more thoroughly. Maybe theyd yield a lead on identification. In any event, there would be another autopsy.
Now we have two deaths. Is this what the first victim meant when shed said, There are others?
Larcos radio crackled with a transmission from the spotter in the plane.
Theres a vehicle in the bush about fifty to sixty yards northeast of the site. A pickup truck, you guys got that?
A quick round of checks determined that no one on the ground was aware of the vehicle. Two state patrol cars moved to block it. Brennan, Dickson, Martin and some of the troopers approached the vehicle. They took up positions around it with weapons drawn and called out for anyone inside to exit with hands raised.
There was no response.
They ran the plate. The pickup was a late-model Ford F-150, registered to Carl Nelson of Rampart. There were no warrants, or wants for him. A quick, cautious check confirmed the truck was empty. Brennan noticed the rear window bore a parking decal for the MRKT DataFlow Call Center.
He pulled on latex gloves and tried the drivers door.
It opened.
A folded single sheet of paper waited on the seat.
Brennan read it:
I only wanted someone to love in my life.
Its better to end everyones pain.
God forgive me for what Ive done.
Carl Nelson
4
Rampart, New York
Yeah, thats Carls truck. Whats wrong?
Robert Vanders eyes flicked up from the pictures Brennan showed him on his phone and he snapped his gum.
Carls been off sick, whyre you asking about him?
Vander glanced quickly at his computer monitor, a reflex to the pinging of new messages. He was the IT chief at the MRKT DataFlow Call Center, which handled millions of accounts for several credit card companies. With five hundred people on the payroll, it was Ramparts largest employer.
Vander was Carl Nelsons supervisor.
Whats this about? Vander looked at Brennan, who sat across from his desk, then at Paul Dickson, who was beside Brennan, taking notes.
Were checking on his welfare, Brennan said.
Vander halted his gum chewing.
His welfare? He called in sick two days ago, said he had some kind of bug. Whats going on?
Brennan let a few moments pass without answering.
Mr. Vander, can you tell us about Mr. Nelson? What he does here, his character?
His character? Youre making me nervous.
Can you help us?
Carls been with MRKT about ten years. Hes a senior systems technician, a genius with computers. He helped design the upgrade for our security programs. Hes an excellent employee, very quiet and keeps to himself. I got nothing but good things to say about him. Im getting a little worried.
Has he been under any stress lately?
No, nothing beyond the usual workload demands.
Whats his relationship status? Married, divorced, girlfriend, boyfriend?
Hes not married. I dont think he has a girlfriend, or partner, whatever.
Vander repositioned himself in his chair.
Do you know if he has any outstanding debts?
No, I wouldnt know.
Does he gamble? Use drugs or have any addictions?
No. I dont think- You know, Im not comfortable with this.
Would you volunteer a copy of his file to us?
Not before I check with our human resources and legal people. Vanders mouse clicked. I think you need a warrant.
Thats fine. Thank you for your help.
Brennan and Dickson got up to leave.
Wait, Vander stood, his face whitened. Would this have something to do with that story about the fire killing two people at the old cemetery?
Brennan let a moment pass.
Mr. Vander, we cant confirm anything and we strongly urge you to keep our inquiries confidential.
Later, as Dickson drove them from the center, he was frustrated at where things stood in the thirty-six hours since the fire was discovered.
Theyd talked to Robbie and Chrissie, the two teens whod called it in, and got repetitions of what they already knew.
Weve still got nothing on our Jane Doe. Nothing more on our John Doe-slash Carl Nelson. Weve got his note, his truck. Theres no activity at his residence and hes not at work. We know its him. This is a clear murder-suicide, Ed. Whenre we going to get warrants and search his place for something to help identify the woman and clear this one?
Brennan was checking his phone for messages.
Well get warrants once we confirm his identity. Lets go to the hospital. Morten wants to see us, maybe hes got something.
Morten Compton, Ramparts pathologist, was a large man with a Vandyke who was partial to suspenders and bow ties.
He was pulling on his jacket when Brennan and Dickson arrived. His basement office in the hospital smelled of antiseptic and formaldehyde.
Sorry, fellas, I got to get to Ogdensburg. Compton tossed files into his briefcase. Im assisting the county with the triple bar shooting there and I got the double fatal with the church van and the semi in Potsdam.
So why call us over, Mort? Brennan asked. Have you made any progress with either victim in my case?
Some, but first you have to appreciate that confirming positive IDs will take time, given the condition of the bodies and the backlog my office is facing. My assistant is in Vermont attending a funeral. Im arranging for help from Watertown.
So where are we on my double?
Weve submitted dental charts for the female and male to local and regional dentists and dental associations. Toxicology has gone to Syracuse and weve submitted DNA to the FBIs databank.