“You think they ran off together.”
“Possibly, yes.”
“So what does that have to do with the nurse?”
“Elsie Schulung worked at Loving Care Home until two weeks ago. While she worked there, she befriended my missing person—Bertram Lanz. When Bertram disappeared, I thought he may have gone to her house. I called up Baniff PD, and Sergeant Quay went over there to help me out. All he found is an unoccupied house. Today, we did a welfare check. That’s when we found the blood under the refrigerator. Kathrine Taylor’s disappearance may not have anything to do with my case. But her sudden departure needs to be looked into, since the emergency phone call wasn’t from her mother.”
“Got it. I’ll get someone down.”
“I’d like to go through her room at her facility. See if it relates to my case. The director has given me permission, but I don’t want to step on your toes.”
“When were you thinking of doing this?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay. How about if you give me a time and I’ll meet you there.”
“Can we make it in the early afternoon? I’d like to talk to Kathrine’s parents first.”
“Our department should be doing that.”
“I know. I promise to share.”
A pause. “You know it’s over an hour from the Berkshires to Mangrove.”
“I know. I could probably make it to headquarters about noon.”
“Fine.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Rand. I’ll see you then.”
Decker hung up. He knew he should be concentrating on cases within his jurisdiction, especially a ten-year-old cold case now that he had identified a set of remains. Two other campers were still missing. But as long as there was a chance that Bertram was still alive, even a small chance, a warm case outweighed a cold one.
Chapter 10
“No sighting of Elsie Schulung’s car from the CCTV we’ve gone through.” McAdams shuffled through his notes. He was at the station, talking to Decker via speakerphone. “She could have taken back roads or changed cars. If I was involved in something bad, I would have changed cars.”
“If she changed cars, then we’ve got to approach this a different way.”
“Meaning?”
“Call up car-rental services.” For Decker, hope of finding Bertram was draining—not like a gush of water from a burst pipe, more like from a hissing radiator. “What’s new with our bones? Heard from the coroner?”
“The more sophisticated DNA test says it’s Zeke Anderson. Do you want me to call the parents?”
“I’ll do it. I had planned to set up an appointment just to talk to them. Now that I have definite news . . .” He sighed. “I’m sure this call has always been in the back of their minds, but it’s always a shock to hear confirmation. Do you want to come with me for the interview?”
“I’ll be there, pad in hand.” A pause. “Poor people.”
“Yes.” Silly him for thinking that police work was happy work even in small towns. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, actually,” McAdams said. “We got the full coroner’s report. Anderson’s ribs were shattered—front to back. Something blew a hole in his chest. Probably a through-and-through gunshot wound.”
“Any bullets recovered at the dig site?”
“No.”
“Shell casings?”
“No. He was probably shot elsewhere.”
“What about his skull?”
“What about it?”
“Bashed in anywhere? Any signs of a fracture?”
“I don’t think . . . hold on.” He shuffled through the report. “No, the skull was intact.”
“What about arms and legs?”
A pause over the line. “The skeleton wasn’t complete. There were femurs found intact with scratches on them. The coroner thinks the most likely explanation is gnaw marks from animal activity.”
“And his arms?”
“The left ulna and radius are intact. The right arm bones were in pieces.”
“He stuck his hand in front of his chest when he saw the gun?”
“Could be. We found scattered finger and toe bones as well.”
“Any idea of the caliber that shattered his ribs?”
“Something big and probably a close-range shot.”
“Any pellets?”
“Nope.”
“You said Forensics dug up his shirt, right?”
“No, they dug up pieces of plaid fabric that look like a shirt he commonly wore,” McAdams said.
“Do any of the remnants have something that might be a bullet hole?”
“I didn’t see anything like that at the time, but I’ll check again as soon as the stuff comes back from the lab. We also found bits of denim material—probably his pants.”
“Any blood on the fabrics?” Decker asked.
“I don’t know. They’re still being tested.”
“And the search didn’t find any personal effects?”
“Nothing in the way of ID—no wallet, no driver’s license, no student ID card.”
“What about other kinds of things? Business cards from a restaurant or a shop. Any kind of credit card receipt? Or maybe something handwritten like from a dry cleaner or a specialty shop?”
“Not yet. Forensics is still searching.”
“This question goes to the fact that the kids were up there in late October,” Decker said. “I’d like the area searched for abandoned drug labs. I’m thinking that maybe the kids saw something bad and paid for it.”
McAdams said, “I thought you were thinking of marijuana farms.”
“Any marijuana farms in existence ten years ago would be long gone.” Decker paused. “They may have left behind a greenhouse or growing lights and a dryer for plants. Yeah, sure, check for that as well. Take people with you. And some vests and guns. Those kinds of people don’t like trespassers.”
“We’ll poke around, look for anything associated with labs. When do you want this search to be conducted?”
“How many people do we have?”
“Two or three maybe. The rest are still on Bertram Lanz.”
“Coordinate with Butterfield and set something up for next week. I don’t want to spend too much man power looking for labs on a ten-year-old case when Bertram is still missing.”
“Understood. What else?”
“Tomorrow, I want to talk to Kathrine’s parents first. I’m headed out to Pittsfield, first. I told the Taylors I’d be there at around nine. I’ll need an early start to visit the Taylors and make it out to Kathrine’s residential facility. I’ll have to do all this and then make it back home before sundown.”
“What time does Shabbos start?”
“Late—around nine. I should be okay. You’re invited for dinner.”
“I’ll be there. I’d like to come with you to interview the Taylors. My experience might be helpful.”
“Sure. I’m starting out at around six-thirty in the morning.”