Chapter 8

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Whitaker said grumpily as they drove back to the base.

They’d spent almost four hours in the sheriff’s office as she went over all of the murders in her jurisdiction during the last three years, even the two that the Army had taken responsibility for. One was clearly not connected at all, the result of a bar brawl that got out of hand. Even though they’d already convicted someone for that murder, the sheriff said she wanted to show them everything, so they could see the pattern she’d seen.

She reiterated the three year window was because that marked the beginning of the murders in Silver Plains. Before the first one three years ago, there hadn’t been a murder in the town in decades. Starting three years ago they’d had between two and four murders a year, although this year was now at four, with the specialists’ death today.

Taylor had to agree there was a definite pattern. Aside from the death they all agreed wasn’t connected and one other anomaly, the first murder in the three-year period, there was a definite pattern. In all of the murders, they found no prints or other physical evidence and the murder involved a single slash to the throat. The victims still had wallets full of money and credit cards, which seemed to rule out financial motives. After the third murder, the sheriff had started pouring over the victim’s background, trying to find any explanations. A few had things in their past that warranted investigations, such as the forty-two-year-old man with a history of shady investments, but they turned out to be dead ends.

The only murder that stood out as different was the first one, which was significantly bloodier than the others. The woman had been stabbed thirteen times before having her throat cut and the blood was partially cleaned up, most likely to obscure some forensic evidence.

“You have to admit the sheriff was right, there is definitively a pattern to the killings, and it connects to the two killings Chenier agreed connected to the black market ring on the base.”

“Patterns aren’t evidence for a reason. People are good at finding patterns in data. If you pick out nine murders in any major city, you’ll be able to come up with a few patterns that mean nothing, if you want to. Besides, the black market’s activities first started two years ago and these murders go back three years. Why would they start killing people to keep the thefts secret a year before they actually stole anything?”

“We assume that’s when they started. There could have been thefts before that we don’t know about.”

“It still doesn’t track. The murders we know about were because they were worried about being discovered. If they’d managed to get items off base without anyone knowing, why would they need to kill anyone?”

“Maybe they had some kind of internal problem we don’t know about and needed a show of force to keep their people together.”

“Maybe, but it’s still weak. There were two murders that first year, not one. You’re telling me they suddenly needed to send two messages during a period when no one knew they existed?”

“The first murder is outside the pattern, so I’m willing to admit it doesn’t fit. I know the sheriff likes to think all of them connect except the bar fight because they’d gone so long without any murders, but two over two years isn’t a pattern.”

“Don’t you think it’s a problem when you start having to discount data points to make your theory work?”

“No, because I’m looking at the same pattern the sheriff noticed. If you take out that first one and the bar fight, it’s almost impossible to say these aren’t all committed by the same killers. I know you think that a cut throat is a common cause of death in murders, but in seven murders? When those are the only murders that happened in an isolated community?”

“It’s not the only murders. You just said ‘if you take out the first one and the bar fight.’ You can’t argue that it’s suspicious that all of the murders were committed the same way after you’ve taken out the murders that weren’t committed that way. It’s selective bias.”

“That’s just semantics, and you know it. Don’t dig your heels in. We’ve both seen how that’s almost ruined investigations in the past. You’re better than that.”

There was a lull in their conversation as they went through base security and drove up to the small shack they’d been assigned.

Turning off the car, Taylor turned to her and said, “Think about the investigation into Qasim or the thing in Lubbock a couple of years ago. In each of those, we dealt with investigations run by people who got stuck on one track, even when it was clear they were missing something. You’re better than that.”

“You don’t think you’re grasping for something that isn’t here?”

“No, I don’t. I’m willing to accept the possibility that these murders aren’t connected just as much as I’m willing to look at the possibility that they are. The only thing I do know is we’re missing something. I know you see it too. You’ve chased enough crooks to know none of this makes sense. The level of violence doesn’t match the crimes that are actually happening. We know they’ve killed two people inside the ring itself and at least two people with direct relationships with someone we believe are involved with the ring. Have you ever heard of a criminal enterprise that had that kind of violently punitive atmosphere where someone didn’t run to the cops for protection?”

“The mob.”

“These guys aren’t the mob. It’s too much. There are lower-level people involved in this and the money can’t be that good. There’s got to be someone in the organization who would have thought ‘Hey, there are investigators in and out of here! The army can get me off base, I better talk.’ We haven’t seen that yet. that could mean it’s just a really small group, which makes it easier to control everyone, but considering three of them have already been caught or murdered, it doesn’t seem that small at all, unless all that’s left is the person in charge and the person doing the killing, unless those are the same person, which also doesn’t feel right.”

“It could also mean they’ve got some kind of method of control to keep everyone in line.”

“We just covered that though. Even the mob at its height had people turn themselves in to the police for protection. Sure, you could say they’ve shown they can get to anyone, even in custody, but that doesn’t explain how no one came forward before they got to Evans.”

“They could have known the rest of the people in the ring had that capability, and could still get to them.”

“So what, Evans just accepted he was a dead man and was waiting for them to get to him? I don’t buy it. He would have said something, trying to save his own skin. At least tried to warn us he was in danger.”

“They could have devotion to the cause or whatever. I’ve seen cults give up their own lives to their leaders.”

“They steal shit. This isn’t a cult.”

“I know, I was just saying there are groups that do that. There are explanations for all of this.”

“Yeah, but none of them fit. That’s what I’m getting at. We’re still missing something. We’ve lost all of our leads, so at the moment, the sheriff’s theory is our best option.”

“All that gives us is more bodies. That doesn’t get us closer to a solution.”

“More bodies aren’t more answers, what we...”

Taylor and Whitaker had just walked through the front door of the assigned work area when they both stopped. Inside they found Sebastian Davis sitting at the desk Whitaker had been using, waiting for them.

“What do you want?” Taylor asked, continuing into the room.

“I want you to call whoever you need to and tell them you’ve screwed this up as much as you can and you’re heading back to Washington.”

“Davis, we have work to do. Go find someone else to bother.”

“That’s not going to work this time, Taylor. You’ve screwed the pooch big time. All of your leads have hit dead ends, along with the two witnesses you managed to find. One of whom died in custody before giving up any information. I don’t care who your friends are, you’re done here.”

“Davis, you feel free to call whoever you want to, but do it somewhere else before I pick you up and throw you out,” Taylor said, ignoring him.

“I would have thought you’d care more about the Army than this. You’re going to make this base and the whole service a laughingstock if you keep going, and I’m not going to stand by and let you screw this up. We have a budget coming up and we don’t need any more black eyes.”

“Mr. Davis,” Whitaker said, finally stepping in. “I appreciate how this looks, but investigations like this are fluid. While we have suffered some setbacks...”

“Setbacks? You’re suspects got murdered under your nose. The whole base’s systems have been compromised without you noticing it. The sheriff’s convinced that every death that happens in the county is somehow tied to the Army and you’ve been humoring her. If she goes to the press, she can say that the Army is taking her claims seriously. You were sent to get this disaster under control and instead you’ve made it worse. The longer you two are here, the worse it gets. There’s a transport leaving for Washington tomorrow and I want you both on it.”

Whitaker started to reply, but Taylor cut her off. This guy wasn’t going to be reasoned with. He’d been sent to keep an eye on them and Taylor was pretty sure he was actually just afraid things were going to come back on him. Taylor had met his type before. Paper pushers who never did anything but get their names attached to other people’s work, always maneuvering to keep their names off things that might make them look bad. Not a single one of his type ever made an actual difference. They didn’t have the fortitude to actually deal with the messiness involved in actual work. They were leeches who only knew how to suck on other people’s success, and like any vermin, the only way to deal with them was to stomp on them.

“Listen you little weasel, I don’t care what you f•©king want. Until the President of the United States calls us and tells us to pack it up, we’re not going anywhere. We’ve still got a job to do and as you’ve so helpfully pointed out, we haven’t finished it yet. If you can’t deal with things getting messy then the Army might not be the place for you. Now, you can either walk out that door and leave us alone or I can pick you up and throw you out. It’s your call.”

“You tough guys always think you’ve got it figured out, like you’re the only one that can threaten people. You think no one can touch you so you can do whatever you want, but you’re too dumb to realize there are other threats. You have friends in the service, right? Men still on deployment? I think your ex-fiancé’s husband has a pretty lucrative contract with the State Department. None of these people have the friends you have. Promotions can get squashed, duty assignments can get changed, and contracts can be canceled. You need to think long and hard about the people you care about before you put your hands on me. Now, you’re going to be on that plane tomorrow or I’m going to start making calls. Are we clear?”

Davis didn’t wait for a response, turning and storming out of the shack, slamming the door behind him.

“Do you think anyone would mind if he just vanished?”

“John,” Whitaker said in a warning tone.

“I know, I know. I just can’t stand people like him.”

“You can’t muscle your way through every confrontation. Guys like him may seem worthless but they can be pretty dangerous if you push them into a corner.”

“Me too, and if he goes after my friends, he’s likely to find out just how dangerous I can be.”

Whitaker opened her mouth to respond when Taylor’s cell phone rang.

Taylor pulled out his phone and switched it to speaker when he saw the Silver Plains Sheriff’s department on the caller ID.

“This is Taylor.”

“Agent Taylor, this is Sheriff Martin. After you left I continued going over all of the murders and I think I’ve found something.”