Chet wasn’t the only one staying up late and using his computer to get some work done. Joe sat on the porch at Buck’s house. An extra long phone line stretched from the kitchen to the laptop in front of her. They’d finished looking for the bullet a couple hours ago and found nothing. It was too dark to find anything outside and everyone was too tired to know what they had found even if it was in their hands. Then, after placing one guard at the entrance to the road, she told the others to get some sleep. She would take the first watch on the porch.
She had spent the entire day going over every piece of evidence brought to her by the other deputies, and concluded that this case reeked with inconsistencies. This house contained Buck’s entire life, and she’d gone over everything! If she’d wanted to learn about who Buck was, she felt she had a pretty good idea now.
Something was seriously wrong. Why didn’t anyone else see it? she wondered. Except for the drugs, there was nothing else in this house that would point to Buck as a criminal. Sure, he was a little different and slightly eccentric, but everything here said that Buck was pretty much like any other single man in the golden years of his life.
From the information she had in front of her, she put together a profile on Buck. It was quick and crude, not the in-depth professional report that she’d normally do, but she felt it was accurate. When she had more time, she would do a better job for her files.
Buck didn’t match the description of the man Agent Bradley had painted him to be. She’d done an in-depth evaluation of Ted Katzinski, the Unabomber, a couple of years ago and tried to compare his profile to that of Buck’s. Buck wasn’t the loner, anti-social hermit living deep in the woods with a deep seeded resentment for society that Bradley believed him to be. He was quite the opposite actually.
Sure, Buck would spend weeks, even months, by himself, but he loved people. Whenever he could, he’d be down in town seeing everyone and telling tales of valor from behind a fishing pole or the sights of his rifle. He knew and liked everyone, and everyone knew and liked him.
Despite this, she had cautioned herself earlier on jumping to conclusions. After all, the Unabomber was found in a small town where the locals believed him to be just an eccentric man who kept to himself and wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why was it so hard to believe that something like that couldn’t happen here?
Still, it angered her the way no one had defended him. Buck had been a caring, valued member of the community for as long as she could remember. Had everyone forgotten that as they rushed to sell their story to the tabloids? She hadn’t, and she knew Jim hadn’t either.
The only problem was that Jim had been late to the party, but he was catching up fast. She wondered if he could pull in the reins quick enough to stop this runaway investigation before it sent this county over the cliff. She was confident that he could, but only with her assistance to help him.
“I won’t let you down, Jim,” she vowed. “If you’d only confide in me, we could put this case back on track together!” But she knew that it was just not his way to do so. She would have to work the case from her angle, and hopefully, they’d meet somewhere in the middle to solve it.
She’d spent the entire day watching Agent Bradley do his investigation. He was somewhat unconventional and hurried, but everyone including her got caught up in it. This morning, Bradley somehow seemed bigger than life. Especially after Tom explained to everyone what a super-cop he was.
Nobody questioned it when he immediately took charge. He gave orders in such a confident commanding fashion that she could tell he was a natural leader. It wasn’t until the news report that morning about D. B. Cooper that she started to question the direction and speed of the investigation. When she suggested they slow down, she got a stern scolding from Bradley in front of the other deputies.
“Time is not a luxury I have, Deputy,” Bradley had said, disapprovingly. “The drug dealers aren’t slowing down, so we can’t either. If you can’t keep up with the pace, maybe you should find another line of work.”
He had made her feel like she was ten years old. It made her mad that he’d treated her like that, but most of all she was mad at herself for taking it. She remembered wishing that Jim would show up and stop the craziness. She was again angry with herself for thinking that, too.
She didn’t need Jim to defend her. Why did she back down to his condescending words? She wouldn’t have backed down to anyone else and wasn’t going to let Bradley push her around again!
After seeing the autopsy report and the little demonstration at the firing range this evening, she knew that she had to find out as much information as possible on Agent Bradley. She called the Regional office of the DEA in Seattle to ask about him. Other than verifying that he worked for the Agency, they wouldn’t tell her anything more.
What did she expect? Of course they wouldn’t give information about one of their agents to just anyone claiming to be a law enforcement agent over the phone. Especially anything negative. No matter how bad an agent he may be, all departments have a way of protecting their own.
But then Bradley wasn’t a bad investigator. In fact, he was quite smart, she decided. Watching him all day and listening to his Cooper story, she naturally jumped to the conclusion that Bradley didn’t know what he was doing when in fact it was the exact opposite. He knew exactly what he was doing.
It was Conley’s comments that finally led her to it. Bradley didn’t miss a thing. He intentionally steered the investigation in one direction with one hand while he used slight-of-hand to cover his tracks with the other. Very clever.
Since she couldn’t find anything on Bradley, she decided to check up on Chet Green. To her surprise, that gave her all the information she needed to know. A quick phone call to the Seattle Press Core got her Green’s website and every article he’d ever written.
Seeing that almost everything he’d done related somehow to Bradley made her even more suspicious. She read every article and watched every video. Many people believed that too much personal information about someone was available on the net. For a reporter, this proved to be an occupational hazard.
Everything was here. She had more than enough information to complete a profile on Chet Green. More importantly, since almost everything written was about Bradley, she had everything she needed to do one on him as well.
Chet was weak. He was the follower, the tag along. In every interview, something in his eyes and voice told her that he was unsure of himself. It wasn’t until Bradley spoke that Chet gained confidence. Bradley was Chet’s backbone. Chet was the weak link. She filed that away in her head. Sooner or later, she may have to exploit that little piece of information.
Special Agent Alan Bradley, on the other hand, was a different story. He was strong, confident, and smart. He was used to having his way and getting what he wanted. He surrounded himself with “yes” men, dated bimbos, and used people like tools. He loved fast cars, high society, and the limelight.
In the videos, Bradley was a natural actor. He used his shiny badge and huge gun as glittery props. Bradley effectively spewed an endless stream of bull while hiding behind lying eyes and a cheesy smile. Few people could do it better, she knew. She was very impressed and was not going to underestimate him.
The articles and videos told her something else, too. They weren’t about crime or drugs. Bradley had a hidden agenda. Everything was too well played out. It had too much Hollywood and was too well rehearsed. These weren’t news stories, but instead were the infomercials of a propaganda machine. They were advertisements. For whatever reason, Bradley was trying to sell himself to the general public.
“What’s wrong, Bradley? Didn’t you get enough attention in your childhood?” she asked herself coolly. “Well, you’ve got my attention now, and I’m not letting go until I find out the truth about what happened here today.”
Bradley was going to be a tough nut to crack. He was very guarded, and wasn’t going to let
much slip. But from what she’d seen in these videos and witnessed today, she knew that he was arrogant and overconfident. She had dealt with his type before.
Also, there was a price to pay for putting yourself in the limelight. He was on stage for all to see. If Bradley had a chink in his armor, she was determined to find it.
At first light, she’d be back out searching for that bullet. She decided to keep what she knew to herself, for now. There’s no reason to alert Bradley of her suspicions. Like her father coaching a ball game, she’d sit quietly, while watching and thinking. When the right time came to make a move, she’d be ready.
“You’re going to make an interesting case study, Agent Bradley,” she said with a smile. “That is, just as soon as I put you behind bars.”
Alan laid on the bed examining the logbooks and flight plans. He closed the one he was looking at and tossed it on the floor next to the others he’d discarded earlier. Reaching into the box, he pulled out another logbook. Rubbing his eyes, he opened the cover.
As he paged through it slowly something caught his attention. Alan sat up and flipped some more pages. There it was again, he thought to himself, curiously. What the heck was he doing all the way out there? Alan kept paging through the log. I can’t believe it! He does this every few months or so, why didn’t anyone catch on? Alan got up, walked to the phone, and dialed a number.
“Drug Enforcement Agency, Special Agent Parker speaking. How can I help you?” said the voice on the other side.
“Parker, this is Bradley. I need you to run a name for me.”
“Shoot.”
Alan opened the cover of the logbook. “Get me everything you can find on a Richard Schaffer. He’s a pilot for the Washington State Forest Service. His pilot’s license number is 555-WIG.”
“Got it. This may take a while.”
“As soon as you get it, fax it straight down.” Alan gave him Chet’s fax number then hung up the phone. After yawning, he walked to the bed, took off his clothes, and got in. A few minutes later, he was fast asleep.