JUDITH AND ROBERT WHITE sat across the table from Decker, Jamison, and Kelly in the dining hall. They were young, having been married for less than three years, but she was already pregnant with her second child. Her scarf was colorful, his clothes were dark and nondescript. He looked nervous; she looked intrigued.
They had been asked to come here because their small farm was closest to the Air Force’s outer perimeter fencing.
Robert fiddled with his hat and looked at his feet while Decker scrutinized the pair.
“Anything you can tell us,” he said, now looking directly at Judith. “Whether it seems important or not.”
Robert shrugged and glanced up. “I don’t know nothing.”
His wife elbowed him in the arm. “Bobby, tell them.”
“Shush, Judy, this is no business of ours.”
“Two women have been killed,” said Jamison. “One of them lived here and the other worked here. That makes it our business.”
Judith started to tear up. “Bobby, tell them. It’s important. Oh, poor Pammie and Ms. Cramer.”
Robert straightened, resignation clear on his features. “Okay, there were odd noises at night.”
“Odd? Like what?” asked Decker.
“Planes coming and going. Choppers doing the same. Seen the lights going over our house.”
“And the dogs, tell them about the dogs,” implored his wife.
Robert sat up straighter and his expression became somber. “They got guard dogs there. Fierce things. We got a puppy. Went over to the outer fence one time. Just curious. Well, thank God there were two fences between it and them. Thought they were going to tear right through both to get our little pup.”
“And tell them about the you-know-what,” prompted Judith.
Robert screwed up his mouth and shook his head.
Decker leaned in. “The ‘you-know-what’?”
“The man!” said Judith. “Bobby, if you won’t tell them I will.”
“Good Lord, woman, don’t you see what you’re getting us into talking like that?”
“The truth is always better,” said Decker. “You tell the truth, you won’t get in any trouble.”
“Says you,” retorted Robert.
“Bobby!” exclaimed his wife.
He sighed again. “It was about a month ago. Late. I couldn’t sleep. I was out in my little workshop repairing some tools. It’s about a hundred yards from the fence. That’s when I heard a commotion outside. Around two in the morning. We’ve never had any problems around here, but, well, this sounded not good. I picked up an ax from my workbench and went outside. I could hear the sounds of someone running. And there were shouts and then I heard those dogs barking. They were in a frenzy, seemed like. I ran over toward the fence but stopped before I got there because I could see lights. They were wobbling around because the people holding them were running.”
“Go on,” said Kelly.
“I got scared, so I dropped to the ground, but I kept watching. It was a pretty full moon that night. And then out of the darkness this man jumps up on the inner fence and he’s trying to climb to the top.”
“What did he look like?” asked Decker.
“He had a beard, and his hair was all wild and thick like. Tall and he looked skinny, but he was climbing that fence for all he was worth.”
“Clothing?”
“Like overalls and his feet were bare.”
“What happened next?” asked Jamison.
“He was halfway to the top when a dog got to him. Jumped up and grabbed a hold of his pants leg. He was screaming.”
“Could you understand anything he said?”
“No, I was too far away and it sounded like gibberish to me. I think he was crazy or on drugs or something. But I would’ve been doing the same thing if a dog had a hold of me like that. Then the men came running up and they called the dog off and pulled him down from the fence. He just gave up and went limp. A truck pulled up and they put him in that, and it drove off. Then the others left. By the time I got back to the house I was shaking like a leaf.”
“He was,” said Judith. “I made him some tea to help him calm down. That’s when he told me what happened.”
Decker eyed Kelly, who looked both concerned and confused.
“Did you tell anybody else about this?” asked Jamison.
“No,” said Robert. “Look, it’s the government. I don’t want to get mixed up in any of that. I’m just a farmer. We want to be left alone, that’s all.”
Judith said excitedly, “Do you think this has anything to do with Ms. Cramer and Pammie?”
“It might,” said Kelly, while Decker sat back and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.
Jamison said, “Did you know Pamela and Irene Cramer?”
Judith nodded. “I knew Pammie pretty well. She didn’t like it here. Our son is only one, so he’s not in school, but I helped out Ms. Cramer some in the schoolroom. I helped the last teacher we had, too.”
“Did Cramer ever say anything to you that seemed odd? Did she mention the Air Force facility?”
“No, never.” Judith paused. “She did ask me where in the Colony I lived.”
“And you told her?” said Jamison.
“Yes. It was funny, though.”
“What was?” Jamison said quickly.
“Well, we practice communal living here. And with a lot of Anabaptist colonies, everyone usually lives in little houses next to each other or attached. I know this because my second cousin is a Hutterite, lives in North Dakota, too, only not near here.”
Decker was now eyeing her steadily. “And your point?” he said.
“Well, here there’s enough land for all of us to have our own place, and we each grow some of our own crops. We contribute most of it to the Colony, but we get to keep some for our own use. And folks can grow different things that they might like, that the Colony doesn’t grow collectively.”
“And your point?” Decker said again.
“I told Ms. Cramer about that. And it was just funny what she said. She said to maybe not do that. To maybe not grow our own food.”
“Why would she say that?” asked Jamison, glancing at Decker.
“I don’t know. She never said.”
Decker said urgently, “Where did she teach class here?”
“In the little schoolhouse next to the building where we have the egg production,” said Robert.
“Did she have an office there?”
Judith nodded. “In a room in the back.”
Decker rose. “Can you show us? Now?”
DORIS, THE COLONY TEACHER, answered their knock. She was in her fifties and dressed like the other women at the Colony but with a different color and pattern for her skirt and scarf. Behind her they could see students ranging in age from six to teens, sitting in separate clusters in the middle of the large room. They all looked at the visitors with both interest and puzzlement.
After Judith introduced Kelly, Decker, and Jamison, Doris explained she was filling in for Cramer.
“It was so terrible about Irene,” she said in a low voice.
“Yeah,” said Decker distractedly. “Look, we need to see Cramer’s office.”
“Oh, all right. It’s this way.”
She led them past the students. Several of the younger boys looked up at the giant Decker in awe, while several of the teenaged boys watched the pretty Jamison every step of the way.
Doris opened the door to a small room and ushered them in.
It was ten-by-ten with one window. A small desk sat in the middle of the room with a straight-back chair slid into the knee-hole. Two metal file cabinets were set against one wall.
On the desk was an ink blotter, a Rolodex, a stack of books, and what looked to be some student journals.
Doris and Judith left them there to look around.
“What are we looking for?” asked Kelly.
“Anything that will help us,” replied Decker.
“Well, that’s kind of vague.”
“Decker thinks that Cramer’s murder might be tied to something in her past. Before she came here.” Jamison glanced at Decker. “Old sins cast long shadows, or something to that effect.”
Kelly looked intrigued by that. “So, before she came here, then? Which is maybe why the Feds are interested?”
Decker nodded. “Yes. I think finding out the reason she came here in the first place will go a long way toward helping find who killed her.”
“So are you thinking her murder had something to do with her past?”
“It’s certainly possible,” noted Jamison.
“Works for me.” Kelly slid open the desk drawers and looked through them, even checking underneath each one. Jamison started going through the books and journals, while Decker popped open one of the file cabinet drawers and began searching.
“Nothing here,” said Kelly, a while later.
“Same here,” said Jamison as she put down the last journal, while Decker was still poring through the file cabinets.
Jamison sat down at the desk and pulled the Rolodex toward her.
“Funny thing to have these days, especially for a young person.”
Decker looked up from the cabinet drawer. “Anything in there?”
Jamison flipped through some of the cards starting with the letter A. “They look to be all empty,” she said. “Why have an empty Rolodex on your desk?”
Decker walked over, took it from her, and started going through each card. Finally, near the end he pulled one out that had some writing on it.
“What letter was that under?” asked Kelly.
Decker said, “I think Cramer was trying to be cute. It was under X, as in ‘X marks the spot.’ And I guess she was counting on the fact that almost no one would search every card.”
“Well, she didn’t count on you,” quipped Jamison.
“What does it say?” asked Kelly.
Decker read off the card. “Lesson Plan C dated December 15th of last year.”
“Any idea what that might mean?” asked Jamison.
In answer, Decker raced back over to the file cabinet, quickly searched through the material there, and pulled out a scheduling binder. He flipped it open to December.
“Okay, on December fifteenth, she’s written the name ‘Bud,’ Green Hills Nursing Home, Williston, North Dakota.” He looked up. “And there’s an address and phone number.”
“Why would she have that written down in a lesson plan?” asked Kelly.
“Well, considering the subterfuge with the Rolodex, she probably didn’t want it listed on her phone but still wanted it around to refer to.”
“Williston isn’t that far from here,” said Kelly. “You want to go check it out?”
“Yes, but call first and see if they have anyone named Bud there.”
Kelly took out his phone, looked at the number on the page, and made the call.
He spoke into the phone for a bit and then waited for about a minute. “They’re checking,” he said. Someone came back on the line and he listened for a few moments. He clicked off and looked at them. “They don’t have anyone named Bud living there. Nor anyone who lived there recently with that name.”
“It might be a nickname,” said Jamison.
“Which means we need to take a trip to Williston,” said Decker.
They left and climbed into the SUV.
“You think this might finally be a break?” said Kelly.
“From your lips to God’s ear,” replied Decker.
“I’ll take a little divine intervention about now,” chimed in Jamison.
* * *
“Looks like a nice enough place,” said Jamison as a little over an hour later she steered the SUV into the parking lot of the Green Hills Nursing Home.
They climbed out and went inside. At the front desk was a young woman dressed in blue scrubs.
“May I help you?”
Kelly showed his credentials, as did Decker and Jamison. That got them referred to the supervisor on duty, a woman in her fifties with short, white hair, a portly frame, and a disagreeable look on her face.
“I spoke to you earlier,” she said to Kelly when he explained what they wanted. “We don’t have anyone here named Bud.”
“That’s probably a nickname,” said Kelly.
“So what’s his full name?” she said.
“Well, if we knew that, I would have given it to you already.”
“Did you ever have an Irene Cramer work here?” asked Decker.
“Cramer? Irene Cramer, no I don’t believe so. Look, what is this all about?”
Kelly took out a copy of Cramer’s driver’s license and showed it to the woman. “This is Irene Cramer.”
The woman put on a pair of glasses and looked closely at the photo. “Why, that’s Mary Rice. At least that was her name when she worked here.”
“When was that?” asked Decker.
“Come to my office.”
They followed her down the hall to a small, windowless room with drab furniture. She sat down at her desk and logged on to her desktop computer.
“Her last paycheck was issued about fourteen months ago.”
“What did she do here?” asked Jamison.
“She worked with our residents. She did physical therapy with them.”
“And she was certified to do that?” asked Decker.
“Yes, she had all the proper paperwork.”
“And you checked on all that, her references and all?”
“Yes, that’s our proper procedure. Everything was aboveboard.”
“Can we get copies of all that?” asked Kelly.
“Not without a warrant. I’m not looking to bring a lawsuit down on this place. Now, I don’t know what she’s involved in, but if Mary were to find out—”
“Mary is dead,” said Decker. “So she won’t be doing any suing.”
“Dead!”
“She was murdered. Which is the reason we’re here.”
“Oh my God.”
“And you’re sure you don’t have anyone here named Bud?” said Jamison.
“Quite sure. I know all the residents. There’s no one here with that name or nickname.”
Decker interjected, “But what about with those initials, B-U-D?”
The woman started to peck on the computer keyboard. A few minutes passed as she scrolled through some screens. Then she stopped and smiled. “It’s Brad. Bradley Unger Daniels. That’s B-U-D, right?”
“Yes it is,” said Decker.
MARY?” SAID BRAD DANIELS. He was old and shrunken and seated in a wheelchair in the tiny, antiseptic room he would call home for the remainder of his life.
Decker, Jamison, and Kelly were seated across from him, pretty much filling up the small space.
Jamison nodded. “Yes, Mary Rice. She worked here a little over a year ago as a physical therapist.”
Daniels’s arthritic fingers clutched the head of his cane. “Mary, okay, yeah. I knew her.”
They had been told that Daniels was in his nineties and had been at the facility for ten years. His wife was dead; he had outlived his siblings and even both his children. His grandchildren lived out of state and came once a year at Christmas to visit him.
Kelly had tried to show him the picture of Cramer but Daniels shook his head. “Can’t really see no more.”
Decker looked around the room. Next to the bed on a small shelf were some pictures of little kids, and what looked to be birthday cards. On the nightstand was a ballcap. It was one worn by people who had served in World War II and denoted their branch of service.
“You were in the Air Force in World War II?” said Decker, glancing at the hat.
“Called it the Army Air Forces back then,” said Daniels, smiling feebly. “Was the Army Air Corps before that. Didn’t come to be the U.S. Air Force till later.”
“Were you a pilot?” asked Jamison.
“No. A navigator.” He perked up. “Flew on the B-17, -24, and the big boy, the B-29 Superfortress. Boy, those were some exciting times.”
“Navigator, huh?” said Kelly.
Daniels slowly nodded. “Always liked that stuff. Signals, radio waves. Radar, which was new back then. Got us where we were going and then got us back. Did a lot of bombing runs. Thought I was gonna die every time. Never managed to.” He chuckled softly.
“What’d you do after the war? Did you leave the service?” asked Decker.
“No, I stuck around and worked for the government.”
“What did you do?” asked Jamison.
Now the man’s weakened eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?” he said, his tone suddenly sharp.
Decker squatted down in front of the man. “Did you talk to Mary about some of the things you’d done?”
“You haven’t answered my question yet, so why should I answer yours?”
“You liked Mary?”
“She was a nice gal. Patient. Pushed me to do my therapy, but she did it in a way that wasn’t too overbearing like some of them can be here. I liked her. Too bad when she left. Where’d she get to?”
“Would it surprise you to learn that she moved to London, North Dakota?”
The old man flinched. “London?”
“Yes. It’s where the Douglas S. George Defense Complex is located.”
“Well, I know that.”
“Because you worked there? A long time ago?” said Decker.
“Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t. But if I did, it’s classified,” said Daniels. He closed his eyes and gripped the head of his cane tighter.
“But you talked to Mary about it?”
“How do you know that?” said Daniels. “Did she say I did?”
“No. But why else would she have moved up there? I mean, otherwise it’s a really big coincidence.”
“I got nothing to say on the subject.”
“Did you know that the Air Force sold most of the land around the radar facility?”
“Sold the land?” said Daniels sharply. “To who?”
“A religious organization called the Brothers. Ever heard of them?”
Daniels shook his head.
“And they in turn leased some of the land to frackers.”
“Frackers?”
“Companies that drill down for oil and gas.”
“They’re drilling on that land?” asked Daniels.
“Yes.” Decker glanced at Kelly and then Jamison. He turned back to Daniels. The old man was staring directly at him. “The thing is, we unfortunately can’t talk to Mary.”
“Don’t know where she is, then?” Daniels said.
“No, we do.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Someone murdered her.”
The old man seized up. For a moment Decker thought he might be having a stroke.
“Get out of here,” he suddenly roared, blinking away tears. “You just get out of here, right now. Leave me alone. Leave me the hell alone.”
A uniformed nurse rushed into the room.
“Mr. Daniels?” she said frantically. “What’s wrong?”
He pointed at the others. “These people are harassing me. I want them to leave.”
The nurse looked sternly at the three.
Jamison held out her FBI badge and said, “We had to ask him some difficult questions because of a police investigation.”
“Oh, I see. But he’s upset now. I . . . I think you should leave. He’s not in the best of health.”
Jamison tugged on Decker’s arm. “I think you’re right. We’re going.”
They left the room.
As they walked down the hall Decker said, “He knows. He told Cramer something that made her quit her job here, change her name, and move to London.”
“We just don’t know what,” said Kelly.
“He worked at the Air Force station,” said Jamison. “That has to be the connection. He said he was a navigator and was into radar and radio waves and all. That’s what they do up in London.”
“We need to find out when he was there, exactly,” said Decker. “It’s been around since the fifties, you said?”
“That’s right,” said Kelly. “I don’t know the exact date when it opened.”
“I can get Bogart to check on that,” said Jamison.
Decker said, “And when we find out when he was there and what he was doing, we’re going to come back here and have it out with that guy.”
“But he’s a really old man, Decker,” said Jamison.
“Yeah, I know. And right now, he’s also the best shot we have to solve this case.”
As they walked outside, Kelly said, “What the hell is going on here?”
“I don’t know,” said Decker. “But we’re getting closer to them.”
“Okay, but let’s just hope they don’t get us before we get them,” said Jamison ominously.