“It was a wooden chair. You broke it Sergeant. He’d propped it against the door,” Duncan shouted. From her side of the open doorway, she saw no one in the kitchen or dining room.
“Living room’s empty,” De la Peña shouted.
Lang and Schoenberg stood by the window. Both expected the intruder to come through it at any moment.
“Nothing here,” Lang radioed.
“He’s still in there,” Fat responded.
“We’re going into the living room,” De la Peña reported.
When he heard Duncan say the kitchen was empty, Baldwin had raised his head and peered through the window. Now, he saw De la Peña and then Duncan rush through the doorway, both watching the hall that they knew led to the bedroom before it took a right turn to the bathroom behind the kitchen.
De la Peña walked to the beginning of the hall. It was empty. Two steps forward and he could see most of the bedroom window. Lang and Schoenberg moved their heads quickly to the window then away again.
Schoenberg shook his head. Lang radioed, “Looks empty. Watch out for the closets on the opposite wall.”
De la Peña entered the bedroom followed by Duncan. The length of the wall between the bedroom and living room contained a long narrow closet with four sliding doors, painted white. McLean had left the closet as open as she could, exposing half the area, sparsely filled with clothing on hangers.
De la Peña listened for any sound but heard nothing. Seeing the left side of the closet was empty, he positioned himself in front of the first two doors, which were lined up with each other. Duncan moved to the middle of the room with her weapon pointed toward the closet. De la Peña pulled back the first two doors, exposing an empty space - just the pole and shelf. He moved forward and pulled the other doors back while Duncan stood ready. There was no one.
“The closet is empty, the bedroom’s clear,” De la Peña reported. He and Duncan walked back into the hall, looking forward, confident that the intruder must be behind one of two remaining doors in the hall. The first led to the bathroom. De la Peña carefully turned the knob. It was unlocked. He pushed it open. The mirror above the sink revealed the bathtub and shower, curtain pulled completely to the side. A quick glance left and right showed the room was empty.
De la Peña exhaled and shook his head. He looked at the closed door to a service closet at the end of the hall. He crouched before the door. Duncan pushed herself against the wall. As De la Peña reached for the doorknob, he and Duncan on the inside and Baldwin on the outside, all heard a muffled sound from somewhere inside the house. Duncan looked behind. De la Peña looked above his head, searching for some kind of attic access. Baldwin moved back to the kitchen window and peered in. Alarmed and suddenly angry, De la Peña pushed open the closet door. He saw the home’s small furnace and water heater. Just inside a doorway, a throw rug lay on the floor. De la Peña thought it looked sloppy, placed at an angle to the wall and furnace with one corner folded under. He slid it aside with his right foot. There was a trap door, apparently providing access to the crawlspace under the house.
Before De la Peña could radio the others, even before he had opened the service closet door, from under the house, the intruder silently moved a 2’ by 3’ wooden lattice that covered an opening in the foundation on the south side of the bungalow. With his fingers, he slid the lattice to the right. The opening was hidden by a large, unruly oleander. While Baldwin gazed through the window, the intruder pulled himself out into the light.
At this time, De la Peña called out “He’s under the house.”
Baldwin heard footsteps and turned to see a tall man already out from under the house, starting to run. He was only about twelve feet away, but his shoes were digging hard into the packed earth as he accelerated. Baldwin shouted something the others couldn’t understand. Lang and Schoenberg saw the man’s figure as he ran toward the southeast seconds after Fat radioed, “He’s out. He’s heading toward the trees.”
Schoenberg, Lang and Becker began pursuit. The man was initially about twenty yards ahead. At the point he crossed it, the drainage ditch had widened into a natural arroyo. The man sprinted to the ridge at the beginning of a foothill between two oaks. He continued up the ridge, gaining ground on the three policemen. He reached the edge of a dirt trail that joined the ridge from the right and accelerated even more. Twenty seconds later the ridge trail led through an area where the oaks were more dense. The officers lost sight of him here but continued up the trail. Then they heard a motor starting. Very briefly, their target appeared on a black motorized trail bike moving swiftly farther up the ridge trail.
The police radio speakers were filled with Lang’s expletives. De la Peña, Duncan, Becker, six uniformed officers in the three black and white cars, Moffat, Tashara and by now, Chief Halvorsen understood at once. The target had escaped the trap.
~ ~ ~
CHAPTER 53
“We’ll need the helicopter and the canine unit. Can we get the Forest Service planes up in the air? We’ve got about four hours of daylight left.” Moffat unfolded a topographical map showing the roads and trails in the area.
“Em…I’ll get the helicopter back here,” the Chief said with a grimace. We just flew the County Exec to Manzanita for the grand opening of a new golf resort. I’ll have it back in half an hour. Joanie, radio the pilot to start back immediately and send a car for Doyle, would you please?” A young communications officer began to carry out his request while Tashara phoned the Forest Service and Mrs. Grubb gave directions to the Canine Unit officer.
Within twenty minutes, the Segovia Police Force including Halvorsen’s corp of reserve officers were placed at roads and trailheads leading out of the area into which the suspect had fled. The Department lacked motorcycles suitable for cross-country use but five officers who owned trail bikes were identified. They were sent to join the officers on foot then would proceed ahead trying to track the suspect. Before this, three members of the canine unit - a bloodhound, a Labrador retriever and their trainer - were airlifted from the bungalow to an open area near the ridge trail about five miles away. By four p.m., the search force scouring the area included four persons in two planes, two in a helicopter, five on motorbikes and the rest on foot. Another forty officers were posted in locations outside the search area.
At six thirty, De la Peña joined Moffat at the Communication Center in the station. “Anything?” he asked.
“No. The aircraft have been up over two hours. They haven’t seen anything.”
“I think if he stayed among the oaks on the ridge, he could ride it all the way into the pines. He must have done that. So I guess the guys on wheels didn’t find anything either?” Moffat shook his head. “Anything from the dogs?” De la Peña asked.
“They will continue for a few more hours but the trainer doesn’t think they have the trail. If nothing changes, we’re going to bring everybody out and post them at the exit points.
De la Peña frustration showed. “He’s got to run out of gas soon. He either comes out before that or he’s stuck on foot in the middle of the National Forest. He didn’t have any gear for living in the wild. Don’t you think he’ll come out?”
“Probably, but we can’t be sure. He seems to put a lot of effort into planning. Maybe he has supplies stashed somewhere out there. On the other hand, where is his car? When he attacked Nicole Davies it was parked nearby. I had thought he planned to drug her and take her somewhere. If he only had the trail bike, what did he plan for McLean?” Moffat paused. He appeared to be trying to think of an answer to his own question. “At sunrise, I want a search of every street, parking lot and garage within two miles of the bungalow to see if we can find the Sentra or the F-100 or any other vehicle that doesn’t belong there.
De la Peña noted the order in his book then wrote “manpower?” below it.
“Also, Sergeant, we had Fat get more video shots of the suspect from the surveillance cameras. We’ve given those and the one from the laundromat to the
press. It should be on the ten o’clock news.”
“Yeah, along with the story that I let him get away,” De la Peña said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Captain.”
“Don’t blame yourself. It was a good plan. Maybe we’ll get him tomorrow.”
Mrs. Grubb came in with a message that the Chief wanted to see Moffat for a quick meeting. Moffat suggested De la Peña go home and get some sleep. The Sergeant said he would wait a while. He didn’t say it, but he wanted to see Moffat after the meeting with the Chief.
De la Peña’s intuition was correct. Moffat returned to the Communications Center a half hour later. He signaled for De la Peña to join him at the back of the room. He put his hand on the Sergeant’s shoulder.
“Well, the Chief is making some changes.”
“Oh, man. I was afraid of that.”
“The decoy operation is over. A suspect is at large. Now it’s a manhunt.”
De la Peña nodded, waiting for more.
“You and I are new to this area. We don’t know the county as well as others in the department. Chief Halvorsen is reassigning the task force to Captain Hughes. He will head up this part of the operation.”
“Oh,” De la Peña nodded slowly. “What are we going to do?”
“The Chief wants us back on the Gillis case full time.” Seeing De la Peña’s disappointment he added, “I know it’s hard to give it up after we came so close, but the Chief was right. Hughes and Sergeant Clark are better qualified for what happens next. Go home. Sleep in. I’ll see you back at our office. We’ve got two homicides to work on tomorrow.” He patted De la Peña’s shoulder. “I promise, we won’t have time to feel sorry for ourselves.”
~ ~ ~
CHAPTER 54
Wednesday, May 24
In the early morning, Officers Fat, Duncan, Peake and McLean - on loan another three days from Sonora - made a last visit to the bungalow and Horseshoe Drive. Captain Hughes and Sergeant Clark had agreed to carry out the check of all vehicles in the vicinity. Between 7:00 and 8:00 a.m., the four contacted all the neighbors and verified registration of their cars and trucks. This effort resulted in the discovery of a 2001 Dodge Cirrus in the carport of a bungalow just two homes beyond McLean’s temporary residence. The bungalow was completely empty of furniture and the garden overgrown. Neighbors told police that out of state owners planned to put it up for sale. Using the vehicle identification number on the engine block, the police identified the Cirrus as one stolen in the town of Jackson in 2004. The Forensic Unit quickly ascertained that it had been wiped completely clean of any fingerprints, even the previous owner’s and its odometer showed only forty-five miles had been added to the mileage estimated as of the date it was stolen. Following the vehicle search, the four officers reported to the station where they were assigned to relieve night shift officers at some of the two-dozen roadblocks within the county.
* * *
At eight, Moffat climbed the stairs to his office on the second floor of the 100-year old Brannan Building. For the first time in ten days he smelled the musty odor of the wood floors and sat at his own desk. Mrs. Grubb was there already. She might have remained at the station to assist the officers in command of the manhunt but she said, patting her chest, that it was too stressful for her. “Let someone younger work that.” Moffat suspected she would be there this morning if he were still leading the task force. Mrs. Grubb made quick judgments about people and he was thankful he had been deemed worthy of her loyalty and friendship in just three months. De la Peña won’t take even that long to be admitted to Mrs. Grubb’s select circle, he predicted to himself.
The Sergeant arrived at 8:20. The three filled their coffee cups, moved their chairs together and began to discuss their two homicide cases.
“Ok, where do we start?” Mrs. Grubb asked, patting her hand on the table.
Moffat turned to De la Peña who began reading from pages in a thick file.
“The victim Sandra Smith, age 22, resided at 1718 Old Highway 49, apartment 237, Segovia. On January 27, 1970 at 7:45 a.m. a member of the janitorial staff discovered her body face down on the floor about five feet from the exterior door. Here’s a photograph.”
Mrs. Grubb and Moffat saw the body of a young woman dressed in a short skirt, bright pink with a wide black belt and a white blouse, the latter garment bearing the evidence of the bullet wound that killed her.
De la Peña continued, “It says here that Franke arrived a few minutes later, just before the police. He gave them her name and other information, including next of kin Mr. Alfred Smith. Franke said some new office equipment was missing and a small amount of money. Petty cash box was open on the floor behind the victim’s desk. No fingerprints. Thirty-eight caliber bullet was recovered, no murder weapon. Victim’s father was interviewed. He hadn’t seen his daughter since the previous Sunday, wasn’t unusual. She lived alone.
“Investigators took down the information of the missing equipment, recorded in government property records.”
“Government?” Mrs. Grubb asked.
“This was the local office of the Selective Service System.” De la Peña said. “Franke was head of the draft board. The coroner estimated the time of death between five and seven the previous evening. There was no sign of forced entry. They guessed the thief or thieves entered before the victim left for the day. Their scenario was that they held her at gunpoint, she tried to make a run for it and they shot her before she could reach the door.”
Moffat spoke, “It’s odd that her killer would then stay around to load office equipment into a getaway car after firing a shot at that time of day.”
“Yeah, it does seem odd. But the other offices and storefronts on that side of the building were empty. No one on the street side remembered hearing a gun shot.”
“Let’s get to the heart of the matter,” Mrs. Grubb narrowed her eyes. “Was there any hint of a relationship between Franke and the girl?” They both looked at her. “Somebody had to ask it,” she said.
De la Peña returned to the file, flipping pages. “No. No mention of anything like that. Maybe they never looked into that kind of motive.”
“What did the autopsy show?” Moffat asked.
“See if it says she was pregnant,” Mrs. Grubb offered.
De la Peña leafed through the contents of the folder.
“Ok. It says there was no sign of sexual assault. No evidence of recent sexual relations. It says the victim was believed to have been sexually active. No mention of pregnancy, though. They would have checked, wouldn’t they?”
Moffat responded, “Yes, they would have tested for that.”
“That doesn’t rule out the possibility of an affair,” Mrs. Grubb said.
“No,” Moffat responded. “Sergeant, you read there was no sign of forced entry. Was there any specific mention of the windows and doors? Anything about checking for prints?”
De la Peña continued scanning the first eight pages of the file. “No, not so far. Wait here’s something about a window. It says the office had a large front window next to the outer entrance. It had been repaired on November 25, 1969. Eleven weeks before the crime. It says it was broken during the recent demonstration. No other details. That’s kind of sloppy. What demonstration?”
“We’ll have to look into it.” Moffat tapped his fingers. De la Peña continued reading. Mrs. Grubb had been resting her head on her right hand, her eyes unfocused; she seemed to be gazing at a point above De la Peña’s head. “What we need is some gossip. I’d like to know what people were saying about the victim and Major Franke.
“Franke lived in Miner’s Flat. Maybe Donna Ferguson would know,” De la Peña suggested.
“She was in high school at the time. This crime in Segovia might have been a bit removed from her world then,” Moffat said, and then added, “Still, she could tell us if Franke was ever inclined toward extra marital activity. She might know someone we could ask. I agree with you, Mrs. Grubb. We need some background information.”
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“Gossip,” she said.
“Yes,” Moffat said softly, then more forcefully “I think Reverend Pane may know something about this.”
“Really? Why do you say that?” De la Peña asked.
“Before he died, Franke unburdened himself of the lie about his military record. If he was involved in the murder of this young woman, he would have had something much more important to get off his conscience. Something worth $400,000 of penance.”
“You think Mrs. Pane lied about what Franke told them?” Mrs. Grubb asked.
Moffat thought briefly then said “No. I thought she told me everything she knew. Maybe Franke spoke only to her husband about Sandra and he withheld that from her. Of course, it is all conjecture at this point. I’ve gone off on a tangent, Sergeant. Back to the case file…what was stolen?”
“Office equipment and petty cash.”
“What equipment and how much cash?”
“Cash…Franke said there would have been about $500 in the box that night.”
“That was quite a bit of money in 1970. More than you would get robbing a liquor store,” Mrs. Grubb said with certainty.
Both detectives looked at her. She laughed. “No, I’m not speaking from personal experience. I’ve always been keen on crime. I’ve always read the newspapers.”