Andrew Peterson - Forced to Kill

“Good thought,” Nathan said.

They walked past two covered parking areas. Nathan pointed to his eyes, then pointed to the rear of the next condo building. Jeremy veered off to the right, staying as close to the condo’s wall as possible. He watched the FBI agent weave his way through some small shrubs and cacti growing in terra-cotta pots. If anyone looked out their sliding glass doors, they’d see Jeremy for sure. There was no place to hide in this arid landscaping. Nathan and Harv continued along the sidewalk and entered the courtyard between the target building and its neighbor to the left.

“Looks like it’s the second unit on the right,” Harv said. “Are we worried about trip wires or booby traps?”

“I don’t think so. From what we believe, they left in a hurry. We’ll be careful anyway.”

They kept their Sigs holstered until they arrived at the front door.

“You ready?” Nathan whispered. “I’ll take the lead and left.”

Fingertips only, he reached for the knob.

Unlocked.

He slowly pushed the door, feeling for any resistance. None.

Gun first, he rushed down the hall and pivoted to his left at an open door. A small bathroom. Empty.

He sensed Harv slip past and cover his blind spot. He continued deeper into the condo and turned toward the bottom of some stairs. He pointed his Sig to the upper landing and froze. All quiet. No movement. He made eye contact with Harv and motioned to the top. He stayed put while his friend began a silent ascent.

Harv was back thirty seconds later. They cleared the other rooms before heading into the living room and kitchen. Nathan noticed it right away. The smell. One he knew well. Familiar and noxious. They glanced at each other, rounded the hall corner, and stopped.

What lay before them could only be described as hideous.

The grisly aftermath of a cruel and protracted murder.

A bloody chair sat in the middle of an expanse of plastic drop cloth. Dark red pools surrounded each leg. Dried and cracked. Countless bloody footprints encircled the chair. An end table had been hauled onto the plastic-the tools of pain adorning its surface. A filleting knife. Wire cutters. Pliers. And a small Coleman burner. A strip of plastic had also been laid into the kitchen with more bloody tracks to and from the sink.

“Do you see it, Harv?”

“See what?”

Nathan didn’t respond.

“Talk to me, Nate.”

“Rage. Montez was pissed. That isn’t like him. Neither is leaving a scene like this. He’s making a statement.”

“This was a violent interrogation, but I’m not sure you can draw that conclusion.”

“I need to see the body.”

Harv shook his head. “Nathan, that’s reckless. In your current mental state, it’s beyond reckless.”

“I need to be sure.”

“Sure of what?”

He waved a hand. “That this wasn’t business as usual. This was personal for Montez.”

“Personal? You’re thinking he knew Kramer? And you think seeing Kramer’s body will confirm that?”

“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know. But look at this. Does this look like the aftermath of a professional interrogation, or a sadistic indulgence?”

“No more over-the-top than what he did to you.”

“Right, but it got personal by the end with me.”

“We don’t have to go to Salt Lake in person. We could look at photos, or even view the body by video.”

“It’s not the same.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

“Harv, I appreciate you trying to insulate me, but it’s something I have to do. I’ll be okay.”

“Will you?”

“Yes, absolutely. Come on, let’s go find Jeremy. This is his crime scene now.” They found him at the southwest corner of the building.

“You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost. I take it you found something.”

“The front door was unlocked,” Harv said.

Nathan saw the curtains of an upstairs bedroom move slightly. “We’re gonna have company soon. Someone’s watching us.” He pointed toward the window. The curtains moved again.

“I need to call this in right away,” Jeremy said. “And notify the Kane County Sheriff’s Department as well.”

They led Jeremy down the hall into the living room where the FBI special agent stared, unmoving.

“This is the worst I’ve ever seen.”

Nathan shivered at the thought of Nichole Dalton and her two daughters. Would Montez really do something like this to children?

“It looks like whoever did this left in a hurry,” he said to Jeremy. “They probably knew they were seen dumping the body and had to get out fast. I doubt they would’ve left things this way otherwise.”

Jeremy agreed. “That sounds right. The body was dumped about a half an hour’s boat ride from the marina. By the time they got back, they wouldn’t have had much time to bug out.”

“They must’ve beaten the response,” Nathan said. “If a deputy had been there when they returned to the marina, they would’ve been questioned about why they were mooring in the middle of the night, especially after a nine-one-one call about a body being dumped.”

“What’s the typical response time to get here?” Harv asked.

“I don’t know. If a deputy was in the marina area, it could be relatively fast. I’ll find out the exact times when sheriff’s units reported on scene.”

Nathan looked at the end table with the tools. “I’m willing to bet those are your wire cutters we talked about, the pliers too. Let’s find out if they were bought here at the marina. If they match stock sold locally, somebody might remember who bought them. It’s a long shot, but we might catch a break. You’ve got a lot of legwork to do, Jeremy.”

“No doubt. Since the wire cutters and pliers are still here, it probably means they wrapped him in the chain link here.”

Nathan squinted.

“What?” Harv asked.

“The piece of chain link on Stiegler’s houseboat.”

“If they wrapped Kramer here, why was there a loose piece on the houseboat?”

Jeremy said, “If you’re thinking it was planted, I can’t see the logic of it.”

“Let’s not worry about that now,” Nathan said. “It’s not critical at this point.”

Harv looked at Jeremy. “If Kramer was wrapped in chain link here, he wouldn’t have been able to walk.”

Jeremy agreed. “They carried him for sure.”

“Let’s go over how we think this went down,” Nathan said, then paused to think it through. “The bad guys arrive sometime during the day and gain entry. They overpower Kramer and do their dirty work. Later that evening, they retrieve the chain link from their vehicle, wrap him up and carry him out, all unseen by the neighbors. They drive down to the marina, where one of them steals Stiegler’s boat. It’s too risky to move the body along the dock, so the vehicle with Kramer’s body probably goes to a more remote beach location where they make the transfer. Maybe a loose piece of fencing comes off. They motor out and dump the body. Let’s assume they think they were seen. They rush back to the marina, moor the boat in a hurry, put back Stiegler’s key backwards, and retie the mooring knot differently. The same vehicle picks them up at the dock and they bug out without returning to the condo.”

“Or they could’ve stolen Stiegler’s boat ahead of time and had it waiting at the beach. There’s no way to know,” Jeremy said.

“My gut says they’d want to minimize the amount of time Stiegler’s boat was missing in case he returned. If our scenario’s right, it would’ve only been gone for a little over an hour.”

“How many perps are we talking about?” Jeremy asked.

“I’d have to say three or four.” Including Montez , he thought. “I suppose it’s possible to do all of that with only two, but unlikely,”