Centralia Sheriff’s Station. 6:00 PM.
“Hi, Sheriff, I have the photos you’ve asked for,” Tom said when he saw Jim come in the front door of the station. He’d been pacing nervously for almost an hour waiting for Jim to arrive. The excitement from this morning’s events had worn off and hindsight told him he screwed up.
The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint Jim. But now, on the day when Jim needed him most, Tom had failed. He promised himself he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Good, bring the pictures in here,” Jim replied, then walked past Tom and into his office. Milhouse grabbed the large folder from his desk and followed Jim in, closing the door behind him. Jim sat down behind his desk and pointed toward one of the chairs in front of it. “Have a seat.” Milhouse placed the photo package on the desk, then sat down.
“Have you found anything out there, yet?” Harper asked as he leaned forward, putting both elbows on the desk.
“No… not yet, but we’re still looking,” came the nervous reply. Jim leaned back in his chair and looked at the wall. After a few moments of silence, Milhouse spoke up. “Do you have any idea what might’ve happened?”
Jim didn’t take his eyes off the wall, he’d been running that question over in his head for hours, and, as of yet, he’d come up empty. “Have you seen any strangers in town?” he finally asked.
“Well…no,” Milhouse said as he tried to think. “Not any more than usual. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jim glanced at Milhouse, then back at the wall. “Maybe someone from out of town saw Buck flashing his money around at one of the local taverns. You know how Buck was when he drank. He was always buying people drinks, especially strangers who haven’t heard his stories a million times.” Jim managed a slight smile as he thought of his friend.
Milhouse didn’t say anything. He just sat waiting for Jim to continue. “Maybe one of these strangers found out where Buck lived, then snuck out there early this morning and tried to rob him.”
Milhouse thought for a moment. “If it was a robbery, why didn’t he take the money? We found Buck’s wallet on his dresser and the cans of cash in his closet.”
“I don’t know,” Jim leaned forward against his desk and racked his brain. “Maybe he didn’t mean to kill him. Buck may have surprised him while he was searching for the money and the guy accidentally shot him. He then got scared and ran out of there, abandoning the search.”
Milhouse pondered that for a moment then replied. “But what about the drugs, where do they fit in?”
Jim shrugged. “Maybe this guy was some sort of junky. He may have brought it with him, then in the heat of the moment when he was scared, accidentally dropped it at the scene and took off without it.”
“That wouldn’t work,” Milhouse replied. “The drugs were found in the coffee can with the money. If he had dropped it, it wouldn’t have been until after he found the money. Then he probably wouldn’t have been so scared that he would leave without everything he came for.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jim said in frustration. As of yet, he had too few facts to go on. He’d hoped the autopsy report would tell more, but instead it only confused him further. He was glad Tom was there with his report and photos. It would be his first opportunity to examine the evidence as it was collected that morning.
“What about the kid who was staying with Buck?” Milhouse asked. “Could he have done it?”
“No, Clifford went back to Seattle yesterday. There’s no way he could have anything to do with it.” Jim reached for the package on the desk. “Is your report in here?”
“Yes, it’s on top of the photos.”
Jim opened the envelope and emptied its contents onto the desk. He picked up the written report and began to examine it.
Alan parked his Corvette on the side of the station, then walked around the corner to the entrance. He went through the front door and stopped when he saw Jim and Milhouse in the office. The two men hadn’t noticed him, so he stepped out of sight in the hallway and tried to listen in, but all he heard was garble.
He didn’t want to have another confrontation with Sheriff Harper unless they were alone. If it didn’t go well, he didn’t want any deputies seeing it. If they saw them argue, they might decide loyalty to Harper was more important than helping him. He stood back and tried to listen while he waited.
At that moment, Deputy Rissley pulled into the station’s lot and parked her Blazer next to Milhouse and Harper’s. While back at Buck’s place her job was to tag and catalog evidence—she never left the porch. After Jim had arrived, she was assigned to look for bullets. That was the first chance she had gotten to examine the crime scene for herself.
Earlier, Milhouse had arranged for Mr. Miller, a local rancher, to pick up Buck’s animals. By the time Miller arrived, Milhouse had already left to meet with Harper, so it was up to Joe to assist in the loading of the animals into the trailer.
On her way, she left the cabin. Heading over to the barn, she glanced at the tire tracks as she stepped over them when something caught her eye. She stopped for a moment to get a closer look. Earlier, she had tagged and cataloged a plaster impression of the track but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
But now, she could see the wheel and axle spacing. There was something strangely familiar about them, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. There were animals to move so she shook off the feeling, knowing she would come back to it later.
In order to preserve the crime scene, she decided to take the mules out the back way. Joe took each mule one by one out of the stable, through the back doors of the barn, and into the corral. Then she closed the barn’s back door and opened the corral gate letting each mule though individually into the trailer.
During this process, Joe had to walk to the back of the corral several times and in doing so noticed something unusual. The ground was disturbed along the side of the corral and up the hill. After she finished loading the mules, she went back for a closer look.
Two sets of footprints came down the hill through the brush and along the corral. She probably wouldn’t have noticed them at all except that they had been made more pronounced by all the slipping their owners had done while coming down the hill. After a closer examination, Joe saw that the prints were from shoes with little to no tread, like a street shoe or loafer. Except for her own, there were no other prints around.
They weren’t made by any of the deputies, she knew. The Sheriff’s department provided its personnel with different uniform options depending on the situation. For patrol and office work they wore light street shoes, but today in these conditions, all the deputies were wearing boots with a waffle style tread.
She didn’t know if they were important and wondered if anyone else had seen them, but decided to get some pictures of them anyway. Joe got the camera and tape measure from her Blazer. After photographing and measuring the prints, she followed them up the hill. Joe came upon a small opening in the brush where the tracks were all jumbled up as if someone had been standing there for awhile.
A little further investigation led her to a conclusion that surprised her. It was obvious that two people stood up there and watched the property below. Looking through the brush, she could see everything. These were the footprints of the shooter, she was sure of it. She had to tell Jim. They were looking for two people not one.
After quickly taking some pictures with her 35mm camera, Joe rushed to Centralia to get them developed. That had taken a long time and she wished the department had bought the digital camera she had wanted last month. She kicked herself for not pushing the issue further with Jim who insisted it was too expensive.
But in this situation, time was even more expensive. With a digital camera she could’ve taken the pictures, loaded them onto her laptop, then e-mailed them to the station over the internet. She wouldn’t have wasted all that time on the road or waiting for development.
/> Joe got out of the Blazer and hurried to the rear to get the box of evidence from the back. She reached for the tailgate handle and froze. On the ground in front of her were her tire tracks. Before entering the lot, she had driven through a puddle wetting the tires. She then made a slow arching turn into the parking space.
What she saw now reminded her of the tracks at Buck’s house. She shook off the surprise knowing she had to check this out. The evidence box in her Blazer held the plaster tire mold and she knew she had a tape measure somewhere. Where was it? She went to the cab to look.
Jim finished reading the report and glanced at a few photos.
“This is going to be a real tough one, isn’t it Sheriff?” Milhouse said.
“Yes it is,” Jim replied softly, after a long moment. “It’s going to require a lot of thought.” Jim reached down and opened the lower drawer of his desk, pulling out his gun belt and a box of shells. Then both men stood up and walked towards the door.
When Alan saw this, he quietly slipped into the men’s room and listened at the door.
Jim opened the office door, then followed Milhouse out of it. “I set up the conference room so that we could follow the flow of evidence better,” Milhouse said.
“Good idea. Lets have a look.”
They both went into the conference room where Jim saw what Tom had done. Pinned to the wall were blown up pictures of the evidence and crime scene. From left to right, in chronological order, were pictures of the arching tire tracks, drugs, and money.
The middle was a piece of paper with the word “body” on it. He was glad to see that Tom was sensitive enough to Buck’s death not to include a photo. On the black board was a list of evidence as well as a list titled “Things We Know”. On the list was…
1. D.B. Cooper, with pickup truck and trailer, loaded drugs from the barn.
2. Cooper shoots victim.
3. Cooper drives away.
4. Fingerprints on cup.
Jim was instantly annoyed, but tried not to show it. “These aren’t things you know, they’re speculations.”
“I understand that now, Sheriff,” Tom replied with embarrassment. “These are from the notes I took while with Agent Bradley. I wrote them on the chalkboard when the excitement of the case was still flowing. I haven’t had a chance to revise it.”
“Well, let’s do that now,” Jim said, thoughtfully. He picked up an eraser and chalk, and went to the board. He erased any reference to Cooper or drugs, then filled in the blanks.
1. Someone, with a pickup and trailer, loaded something from the barn.
2. Someone shoots victim.
3. Shooter escapes.
4. Fingerprints on cup.
Jim pointed to the list. “You’re clear on the fact that this is not a drug case or a search for D.B. Cooper, correct?”
Tom nodded, still ashamed of his earlier exuberance. Hearing Jim say it now, it seemed so ridiculous and he felt foolish for even believing it.
“Good.” Jim looked around the room. He didn’t like the first item on the list or the picture of the tire tracks, but they were things they knew and he wasn’t ready to come clean about them. He decided to leave them for now. He’d have to justify the removal otherwise. “It’s not much now, but as the investigation progresses, this room will come in handy.” Jim said, then turned and walked back out of the conference room with Tom following.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning, it was uncalled for.” Jim apologized. He’d been angry and after settling down, realized it was only natural for them to follow Bradley’s lead. None of his deputies were trained for this type of investigation.
“That’s all right, Sheriff,” Milhouse replied. “I had it coming. I guess I got excited about how a high profile case like D.B. Cooper would look on my resume.”
“I don’t know why you want to work in the city, but if that’s what you want I’m sure you’ll get there,” Jim said as they stopped in the hallway. “It won’t be a big case people notice. It’ll be work like that report of yours.” Jim patted Milhouse on the back. “You did a real good job, and the photos are excellent.”
“Thanks, I’ve been practicing with the camera on my days off,” Milhouse said with a smile.
“Well it shows,” Jim said, then turned more serious. “I hope the other deputies are straightened out about this Cooper thing.”
“I think so,” Milhouse nodded. “They seem to have accepted the fact it’s a bunch of bunk.”
“Good. But just to be on the safe side, tell everyone if I hear anymore crap about it from anyone I’ll have them removed from the case,” Jim said sternly.
“Yes sir.”
Jim looked at his watch then back to Milhouse. “I want you to relieve Simms on patrol on highway seven, then have him relieve Kruger on watch at Mineral Lake. Tell Rissley, Conley, and Johnson to go home and get some rest, but they have to be back in eight hours so that you and the others can get some rest as well. Then I want you to be back here at six tomorrow morning. That doesn’t give you much sleep. Do you think you can handle it?” Jim looked sternly at Milhouse.
“Yes, sir. You can count on me,” he replied assuredly.
“Good. Now why don’t you call Peggy and tell her you’re going to be working late. You don’t want her to worry do you?”
“No, I don’t, and thanks for reminding me.” Milhouse then turned and walked towards his desk.
“One more thing.” Jim began to say. Milhouse turned to look at him. “Pass this along to the rest of the guys. If that DEA agent comes back and starts to give orders tell him he has to see me. We’ll be too busy with our own investigation, so no one is to help him unless it’s okayed by me first. You got that?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll tell them.”
“Good,” Jim said, then walked towards the back door. With his gun belt and shells in hand, he disappeared through it.
Alan heard everything. He slightly pulled open the restroom door and peered through it. Milhouse was sitting on the corner of his desk with his back to the hallway talking on the phone. Alan slipped out of the restroom and walked to the front of the counter. He could hear Milhouse talking.
“Honey, you know I can’t discuss the case. If Harper found out he’d chew my butt.” Milhouse said into the receiver.
“Excuse me, Deputy,” Alan interrupted.
Milhouse turned and saw Alan. “Oh, I’m sorry Agent Bradley, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said then spoke back into the receiver. “Listen, Peg, I’ve got to go. Don’t hold dinner for me, I’ll be working late. And please stop listening to all the gossip from Mrs. Nelson. You know she makes that stuff up…All right, I’ll talk to you later.” Milhouse hung up the phone, then looked at Alan. “What can I do for you?”
“Did the fingerprints from the coffee cup come back from the lab yet?” Alan asked.
“Yes they have. Most of them were smudged but we got a good thumb print and a good partial of the index finger.”
“Great! I need a copy to fax to Seattle and have my people run it through the Federal computer banks. If our man has been fingerprinted before, for any reason, we’ll find him.”
“Good idea, why didn’t I think of that,” Milhouse said then walked to a cabinet, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved a file. “This could lead to the first real break in the case.”
“One more thing. Remember that float plane we saw this morning.”
“Yeah, what about it?” Milhouse replied.
“Do they have to file flight plans with the FAA?”
“I don’t think something that small has to. I think they’re required to keep flight logbooks though. Why?”
“This smuggling operation has to get its drugs in and out of here quickly and unnoticed. They may be using float planes.”
“Oh, that again,” Milhouse said as his expression turned sour. Milhouse walked to the copy machine with the file.
Alan
walked around the counter and over to him. “Listen, my source has never lied to me. If he says that D.B. Cooper is running a drug operation out here then I believe him.” Milhouse ignored him as he prepared the items from the file. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe it, but we’re both still looking for the same man. The man who drove that truck.”
Alan saw that he had lost the deputy’s confidence. Remembering what he had just heard from behind the restroom door, he attempted a different approach. “I hear you’re looking for a job in the city.”
“Where did you hear that?” Milhouse asked in a short-tempered tone.
“Oh, one of the other deputies told me,” Alan lied.
“So what of it?” Milhouse asked, pushing the copy button.
“Well, I know a lot of important people. I could make some phone calls. Who knows, by this time next week you could be packing your family up and moving them out of this awful town.”
Milhouse’s eyes lit up with excitement. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course I would…that is, if you showed me a little interdepartmental cooperation.”
Agent Bradley was right, Milhouse thought. They were both looking for the same person. He pondered it for a moment, then handed Alan a copy of the prints. “Well I guess we are both on the same side. What do you want me to do?”
“That’s the spirit!” Alan said, encouragingly. “Now, if I’m going to get these flight records, I’ll need a warrant. Who’s the closest judge that can issue one?”
“That would be Judge Lundeberg,” Milhouse replied.
“Do you know him very well?”
“I should, he’s my father-in-law.”
“Well it looks like I came to the right person,” Alan said. “Now, where would these records be kept?”
“At Morton field, out on highway seven.”
“Excellent! Since you’ll be on patrol near there this evening, it won’t take you long. You can drop by Lundeberg’s, pick up the warrant, then stop by the field and get the records. When you’re finished with patrol duty you can drop everything off at my motel.”
“Listen.” Milhouse shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll have time—” Milhouse tried to say but Alan cut him off.
“When you get to my motel, we can talk more about your career ambitions. You know, there aren’t many jobs out there, but there’s always room for a good cop. One who’s a team player. That’s why you need someone with my connections.”
Milhouse thought about that for a moment. Perhaps, if he hurried, it wouldn’t take so long. “Do you want just the outfitters?”
“What else is there?”
“Well, there are a few private helicopters with pontoons and then there’s the Forest Service. They have a plane they use for fighting fires.”
“I want to see anything that lands on water and has enough range to make it to Portland or Seattle.”
“All right, that shouldn’t take long.” Milhouse decided with a smile. “All I have to do is clear it with Sheriff Harper and I’ll be on my way,” he said as he took a step towards the back door.
Alan put a hand on Milhouse’s arm and stopped him. “Deputy Milhouse—Ah—listen, I know you’re in a hurry and I have to talk with Harper anyway. I’ll tell him what we’ve planned and if he doesn’t like it he can call you on the radio.”
Milhouse hesitated for a moment uneasily and was about to refuse when Alan cut him off.
“Just think, Tom,” Alan said with a friendly smile. “We may soon be calling you Special Agent Milhouse instead of deputy. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Milhouse smiled hopefully at the suggestive remark. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he said, then changed directions and walked to the coat hook for his jacket.
“What’s he doing out there, anyway?” Alan pointed to the back door.
“He’s out at the pistol range,” Milhouse replied as he slipped on his jacket. “He says it helps him think.” Tom started walking towards the front door then stopped. “Don’t forget to tell him about what I’m doing,” he reminded Alan.
“I won’t,” he assured him. “I’ll be waiting for you at the motel.”
Milhouse turned and disappeared through the front door.
Alan folded the copy Milhouse had given him and put it in his pocket as he walked out the back door. He stopped and looked at the pistol range. It was a small section of land crudely cut out of the dense trees and brush. Mounds of dirt were piled up at different distances from the firing line. Atop each mound was a large log to which targets were attached. Alan watched Harper as he walked back to the firing line from hanging the last of his targets.