The Fiercest Enemy Read online

  “What kind of drugs?” Jack asked.

  “Cocaine and fentanyl were found in the toxicology screen. It wasn’t a massive dose but enough to be a contributing factor.

  “Five years ago. March. Two more bodies were found. A week apart. In a Sullivan County stripper pit lake called the Coal City Mine Lake. The first victim was a black male, Willie Lamont Washington. Age twenty-six. He was naked, clothes were on a rock near the embankment. His wallet, money, credit cards, phone, and car keys were with the clothes or in his car. The car was found nearby. An empty whiskey bottle was on the floor of the car with his prints on it. An autopsy was performed. Toxicology tested positive for cocaine and fentanyl. Not enough to kill him but coupled with the whiskey might have in time. Death was ruled an accidental drowning.

  “The caller to Sullivan County dispatch was anonymous. The phone number came back to a little bar near City Coal Mine Lake called —and get this—the Chute Me Bar. That’s spelled C- H- U- T- E. You can’t make this stuff up. A copy of the police report is in the folder.

  “But wait…there’s more,” Angelina said like an advertisement announcer. “The second body, Daniel Winters, also age twenty-six, was found six days later in the same lake, almost in the exact same spot as Lamont Washington. He was naked except for his underwear. According to the report, the underwear was pulled over his head. The rest of his clothes were on the embankment, nothing missing. His vehicle found nearby. Anonymous call from the Chute Me Bar.”

  “Let me guess,” Jack said. “Alcohol, cocaine and fentanyl. Ruled as an accidental drowning.”

  “You should be a detective,” she said. “The coroner’s report noted a large contusion on the back of the head. A follow-up police report merely said the two deaths, Winters and Washington, were ‘suspicious’ but they didn’t believe they were connected. I called the Sullivan detective handling both cases, Lieutenant Nonnie Murray. She said the autopsy wasn’t conclusive. The contusions on both men could have been from diving into the lake and hitting a rock.”

  “Both of the victims?” Jack asked.

  “When I talked to her I asked that same question. She said there was the same contusion on the back of Lamont Washington’s noggin. There was no water found in the lungs of either victim, but she said water isn’t always found in the lungs in a drowning death. Her report is in your packet.”

  “She also pointed out there are two or more drowning deaths in that stripper pit lake every year. She wasn’t going to get her panties in a bunch over a couple more. The guys were drunk, high, and made a poor choice. She said the investigation went nowhere. Families for the victims were nonexistent. No one seemed broke up over the deaths. Winter’s personal effects are still in evidence because there was no one to pick them up. Likewise, for Lamont. Their cars were towed and unclaimed and have since been sold or scrapped out.”

  Jack asked, “Were there funerals?”

  “Paupers graves. Both of them. Both of them were living on the county. I can try to see if there were any inquiries.”

  “Don’t bother for now,” Jack said.

  “Moving right along. Three years ago, again in March another anonymous call to police dispatch. This was Greene County. Leonard DiLegge, white male, twenty-eight years old, naked, found in Dugger Lake, nothing missing except his cell phone. The anonymous call was made from that cell phone and it was never recovered. His vehicle was found near the lake. He had an older model VW Van with a wizard painted on the sides.”

  Jack asked, “Dugger Lake?”

  She explained. “Dugger Lake is physically in two counties. Greene County and Sullivan County. This victim was found on the Greene County side of the lake. Dugger, the city, has a stretch of the lake and Sullivan County has some.”

  Jack nodded.

  “DiLegge’s clothes and wallet were found on the bank near the body, same as the others. And get this, his underwear was pulled over his head. Just like Winters. The autopsy reported a contusion on the back of the head. Cocaine and fentanyl, but no alcohol this time. Drowning was the only possibility according to the detective’s report but they listed it as a suspicious death, the suspicion due to the missing phone. The official cause of death was hypoxia. Accidental drowning couldn’t be ruled out. That case remains open, but no one is working on it.”

  “I guess DiLegge wasn’t missed much either,” Jack said.

  “I haven’t pulled all the background information yet, but the police report said he’s a known druggie,” she answered.

  Jack shook his head in disbelief. “That blow to the head alone should have kicked the investigation up a notch.”

  “I agree,” Toomey said. “This kind of shit is why I want you two on this.”

  Angelina continued. “The most recent one was a week ago. March. Troy Jerrell Jr’s body was found floating in Dugger Lake. Blow to the head, some drugs, blood alcohol was sky high, and his underwear were pulled over his head.”

  “Sullivan County or Greene County?” Jack asked.

  “Sullivan. The case is being handled by Dugger PD. The call came in anonymously like the others. His clothes were found on the bank but the wallet, phone and vehicle were missing. His truck was found three days later behind a bar in Dugger. The call came in from his cell phone.”

  Jack started to say something but Angelina held a finger up. “Hang on,” she said. “I saved the best detail for last. Troy Jerrell Junior’s cause of death was ruled as hypoxia like the others, but the pathologist found something interesting this time. Oleoresin capsaicin was found in his lungs, throat and nasal passages. He choked to death before he went in the water. Unless he was crazy and huffing that stuff, this is a definite homicide.”

  “Oleoresin. That’s the chemical found in…” Liddell began.

  “Pepper spray,” Jack finished the sentence.

  “Yeah,” she said. “A bag of marijuana was under the seat when they found the truck. Interestingly, the truck was found by a Linton police officer—in Dugger city limits.”

  Jack filed that tidbit away and said, “None of the other victims showed signs of being pepper sprayed?”

  “Not that I found.”

  Chapter 5

  The home Shaunda shared with her daughter was situated in Sullivan County, just south of Dugger city limits. Shaunda turned down a packed-dirt road that ran between freshly cultivated fields and onward toward her house. The fields would be head high with corn in a few months.

  An incandescent crimson, gold and cerulean blue light was hovering on the horizon in the east heralding another glorious morning. As tired as she was, she rolled to a stop to take in the God made art playing out in front of her eyes. There was something magical about a sunrise. She could understand why the ancients worshipped it and the gods that created it. She knew all the scientific explanations of the colors that made up a sunrise but sometimes you didn’t try to explain a thing, you just let its beauty wash over you.

  She gave the Tahoe some gas and her home soon came into view in the little L-shaped patch of cleared land at the end of the road. The house wasn’t much to look at, with its peeling paint and warped porch and tar patched roof, but it was warm in the winter and cool in the summer and the privacy it afforded was worth more than money.

  She rolled quietly onto the concrete pad she and a friend had poured beside the house. Pen should still be asleep at this hour. She hoped she could catch a few hours of shut-eye herself before Pen was up. She was completely wiped out and not thrilled at the prospect of being around Chief Troy Jerrell this afternoon. Not one little bit. Jerrell blamed her for his son’s killer not being caught. It wasn’t her fault that the County Coroner had declared the death an accidental drowning. It wasn’t her fault that she had a small department. It wasn’t her fault that getting resources from State Police or County Sheriff’s Department was a Herculean task. It wasn’t her fault Troy Junior had traded his Toyota Camry f
or a nondescript truck that he hadn’t registered. She and her constable had spent two full days looking for the Toyota. She had to suffer the humiliation of having Chief Jerrell’s officers finding out that Troy Junior currently owned a truck and then they located it in Dugger city limits. Chief Jerrell must have had knowledge of the truck and hadn’t passed the information on to her.

  She felt sorry for Jerrell because it was his son but there was nothing to investigate. Junior had gotten drunk and high and gone for a swim. End of story. He had a bump on the back of his head but he could have gotten that in any bar or falling down drunk. She’d done all the right things. Followed procedure. Jerrell wasn’t satisfied with the way she ran the investigation and had told her so in plain English, plus a few words she was sure he’d made up. He had the Greene County Coroner do a second autopsy and their opinion was that the wound on the back of the head was from a club of some type. While Jerrell was telling her what she’d missed she’d kept her peace but if he started in on her today she didn’t think she had it in her to be quiet. Especially if the FBI really showed up. She saw no reason why they should. This wasn’t the Lindberg baby kidnapping after all.

  She went inside, quietly shut the door, latched it and listened. She could hear the girl snoring and it was becoming a concern. She needed to get Pen into a sleep study before long. She quietly turned the deadbolt. If she was lucky, Pen would sleep a few more hours. The girl almost never got up before eight. That would give her three hours to sleep. Patty had promised to come over while Shaunda attended the meeting with Jerrell’s task force in Linton. She hoped Patty got some sleep herself this morning. She didn’t think Brandon would be a problem for her anymore.

  Shaunda’s bedroom windows faced directly east into the rising sun. The ‘blackout curtains’ left behind by the previous occupant did diddly-squat. She had considered nailing plywood over the windows but right now she was too tired to care. She unholstered her .357 Colt Python revolver and put it in a shoe box in the back of the closet. She unbuckled her Sam Browne gun belt and hung it on a hook on the back of the closet door. She needed a gun safe to secure her weapon even though she didn’t think Pen would ever mess with her gun. Like everything else, the ‘need to’ column fell well short of the ‘have money for’ column.

  She slipped out of her uniform jacket and hung it on the doorknob. She shed the remainder of her uniform on the floor and fell onto the bed. She was just dropping off to sleep when she heard the doorbell. She jumped up grabbing the thin blanket to cover up and ran to the front door before she remembered she didn’t have a doorbell. Pen had programmed it as her cell phone’s ring tone. She ran back to her bedroom and dug her cell phone out of her jacket pocket.

  Claire Dillingham’s nearly hysterical voice said, “Chief Lynch, Brandon isn’t home. His bed hasn’t been slept in and my Jeep is missing.”

  “Have you tried calling him?” Shaunda asked. She was wide awake again.

  “Don’t you think I’ve done that?” Claire said. “I’ve tried and tried and he doesn’t answer. Something’s wrong. I just know it. A mother always knows.”

  And some mothers are in denial, Shaunda thought. “Claire, I saw him this morning. Not an hour ago. He was in your Jeep. I sent him home.” She didn’t tell Claire that Brandon had an underage, unlicensed driver sitting behind the wheel of Claire’s thirty-thousand-dollar Jeep. Or that her precious boy had been about to commit a rape if Shaunda hadn’t come along. She didn’t tell her because Claire would blame Patty for corrupting and seducing her wonderful and saintly boy.

  “Maybe he has the ringer turned off?” Shaunda suggested.

  “Chief Lynch, is he in trouble? Why did you stop him? What did you say to him that would make him not want to come home?” Claire asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “I know you and everyone in town thinks he’s a delinquent, but the boy has had trouble adjusting.

  Shaunda knew that Brandon’s father had died six years ago. Maybe Brandon was a boy back then but he was nineteen years old now. He’d had six years to ‘adjust’.

  Claire railed on, “What he needs is understanding from all of you. I’m sick of the harassment.”

  Shaunda wanted to suggest that maybe it was time to get professional help for the ‘boy’. It was just like Claire to excuse anything her “delinquent” son did. What Brandon needed from Claire was an ass whooping. Maybe a little discipline instead of letting him lie around all day, without a job, doing whatever he felt to whoever he felt like doing it to.

  Shaunda took a breath and said, “The truth is I saw your Jeep coming from the Dugger mine property. I knew you’d be worried. I stopped him and told him to go home.” Only part of that was a lie.

  “Did you give him a ticket, Chief Lynch? He can’t afford another ticket or he’ll lose his license.”

  Shaunda didn’t know that. If she had, she would have written him a butt load of citations. Even if Claire paid all the fines, Brandon would no longer be licensed. Of course, that wouldn’t stop him. Nothing stopped a kid like that.

  “No Claire. No tickets.”

  “Well, I should think not.”

  Shaunda had considered Claire a friend, but friend or not, she was starting to get pissed off. She said, “Claire, I gave him a verbal warning. While I’ve got you on the phone, when he gets home I want you to talk to him—again—about trespassing on private mining property. You know those mines aren’t safe.”

  The line was silent long enough that Shaunda knew she’d hit a nerve. Shaunda had been complaining at every town board meeting about kids congregating on abandoned mine property posted “NO TRESPASSING.” In particular, the abandoned Dugger and Sunflower mine properties. Stopping that behavior was one thing—maybe the only thing—she and half of the town council agreed on. Unfortunately, half wasn’t enough.

  Claire’s words were measured when she finally spoke. “Brandon doesn’t trespass on private property, Chief Lynch. He knows better and he’s a smart kid. He’s a good boy. He gets traffic tickets and harassed because he’s a good-looking young man driving an expensive vehicle. I know law enforcement officers don’t make a lot of money and it bothers them to see a young man have more than them. I understand that. But let me tell you, when people in Dugger come to me with complaints about the police, I want to assure them you and your men are doing things fairly. It’s hard to defend you at budget meetings when one of ‘your people’ has written a town leader a traffic ticket.”

  Shaunda almost laughed. Her ‘people’, as Claire succinctly put it, were a twenty-three-year-old deputy constable and the other constable was well past his expiration date. She knew exactly what ticket, and what town leader Claire was talking about.

  “Claire, I wrote that ticket last year to Councilman Jackson’s son, who was doing 85 miles per hour in a 40 and ran a red light. He was damn lucky I made the ticket out for ten over the limit or the kid would have lost his license for a year with a huge fine.”

  She had been lenient on the ticket because she knew Councilman Jackson would have paid the fine and then retaliated by making deeper budget cuts for the police department. If things got any tighter Shaunda couldn’t even afford paper for their printer.

  “That’s not what Councilman Jackson said his son told him.” The innuendo being that Shaunda was lying. “His son said you were rude and you and your people are singling out council members children because of some of the council’s decisions about salaries.”

  Shaunda was gripping the phone so tight her hand hurt. She made herself say calmly, “I make what the city pays me, Claire. I’m happy to serve. I’m grateful for the job. I’m always grateful for having any input in council meetings. I may not always agree with the decisions but I enforce the law and respect the city’s needs. I’m grateful for the house the city provided me and for being allowed to drive the Tahoe.” Even though it’s ready for the scrapyard.

  She could hear Claire take in a deep
breath and hold it. She hoped she wasn’t laying it on too thick, but what the hell. “I appreciate everything you’ve personally done to help me and Pen since we came to town. If it wasn’t for you I don’t know what we would have done.”

  Claire’s tone changed. “Oh. Well. Think nothing of it, Shaunda.”

  Bitch! “Thank you, Claire. If Brandon doesn’t come home soon, give me a call back and I’ll see if I can track him down.”

  “No. That won’t be necessary if you assure me he’s okay. I guess he’ll come home when he gets hungry.” Claire forced a laugh. “You know how teenage boys are. Always eating.”

  Shaunda said nothing.

  “He may be at his friend’s house. You know Timmy, don’t you? Timmy Long?”

  “Yes. I know Timmy, Claire. Do you want me to drive by Timmy’s and see if your Jeep is there?”

  “I said that wouldn’t be necessary,” Claire said sharply. “I’ll call him in a little while and see if he’s coming home for breakfast. Sorry I snapped at you. I just worry like any mother. I’m sure you’ve had more than your share of worries, what with your daughter and all.”

  My daughter and all, what? “I’m sure he’ll be home soon, Claire. Anything else?”

  The line went dead in her hand. Claire hadn’t thanked her for the offer to run down her nineteen year old future felon. “Screw you too, Claire,” Shaunda said louder than she intended. She heard a giggle and saw Penelope in the bedroom doorway.

  “Mom,” Penelope said from her wheelchair. “You okay, Mom?”

  Penelope was grinning but still, Shaunda’s heart ached. Pen’s speech ability was deteriorating slowly. “Okay” came out sounding like “O-Tay”. Just one of the many changes both mother and daughter had had to endure.