The Body at Midgley Bridge Page 10

There was a pause as both men contemplated the horror. Marty continued, “The father had a bullet hole in his forehead and the Tahoe went down a twenty foot drop into a ravine. We think the ten-year-old was in the front seat and may have been hurt by the airbag. He was the first boy murdered. The eight-year-old ran for about forty feet before he was caught and drug back to the killing spot. We think the six-year-old was too traumatized to run. The two-year-old would have been in a car seat and would have watched the murders without being able to get out of his seat.”

  Mike only said a two-word obscenity that he never used. Tears were forming, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his left hand.

  Marty grunted a “No shit,” and continued. “Mike, all of the law enforcement men on the scene have years of experience, but this was the worst crime scene any had ever seen. The FBI arrived about two hours after the car was spotted and their forensic team was still at the scene after the bodies were removed. They’ve taken the case, and I don’t think we’ll have any more information, but I thought you should know what the deputies found at the Tahoe crime scene. Agent Goldman instructed everyone at the crime scene to make no comments about what they saw. He said there would be no press release or public acknowledgement that we’ve found Mr. Gregory and his sons. The FBI would take care of notifying next of kin.”

  Mike thanked Marty for providing the information. When he walked back to the deck, Margaret stood up and hugged him. She only asked, “The boys?”

  Mike nodded. He didn’t intend to repeat the details to Margaret, and he didn’t feel like finishing dinner.

  Chapter 14

  The following day was a Friday, and only two weeks before Margaret and Mike planned to fly to Paris for a three-week vacation. Margaret would be attending the cooking school of a famous Parisian chef, and Mike had made arrangements for several Paris area sightseeing tours and a two-day ride-along with the Paris Police. Margaret’s classes would be held from nine to four, and the rest of the time, they could explore Paris together. They had rented an apartment in central Paris, less than a kilometer from the Eiffel Tower and one block from the École Militaire. It would be the most expensive vacation they had ever taken and something they’d talked about for several years. If the Park Sniper had not been caught and was still committing murders in Arizona, Mike wondered if he could actually go.

  It was two that afternoon when Mike got a cell phone call from a blocked number. He assumed it was from Special Agent Adam Goldman.

  “Mike Damson,” he answered, dreading more bad news.

  “Mike, this is Adam Goldman. We have another sniper shooting; this time in Zion National Park.” Mike and Margaret had visited the spectacular canyon area in southwestern Utah. It was among the most beautiful places that he’d ever seen.

  “You’re sure it was the same shooter?” Mike asked.

  “Yes. There is a road into the canyon from the east called the Zion-Mount Carmel Highway. It goes through a tunnel with a series of six large openings cut into the sandstone wall to reveal spectacular views of the Zion Valley as tourists slowly drive through. A single shot through one the tunnel’s window from a distant vantage point went passed through a woman passenger’s head and then struck the driver, killing the newly retired couple from Colorado. They had two young girls, their granddaughters, in the back seat who were not hurt. In this case we recovered the round, a 338 cal., consistent with a shot from an ORSIT T-5000.”

  Mike and Margaret had traveled that same dramatic road. Mike said, “Any sign of the white Ford 150?”

  “That’s the other bad news. We recovered it in a trailhead parking area. We assume the sniper stole another vehicle, but there’s been none reported missing. Backpackers, some of whom might be gone for a week or more, often use that particular trailhead. We have rangers trying to determine what vehicles were parked there, but by the time we find out, he might have changed vehicles again. There are so many national and state parks in Utah that it’s difficult to cover them all, but I’ve sent agents to the entry gates of four national parks to watch for a possible match to the drawings. All the park rangers in Utah have that drawing of the sniper, but it’s a fairly generic image of a forty-five or older, stocky man with or without a beard. We need another break.”

  “I’ve sent that drawing to every national and state park in Arizona too, but without any vehicle information, I’m not optimistic. He could easily return to northern Arizona.”

  Mike thanked Adam for keeping him informed. Although the sniper’s last victims were not in Arizona, there were just too many targets in southern Utah and northern Arizona to guess where he might strike next. Mike decided not to mention to Margaret his own reservation about leaving for Paris if the sniper had not been apprehended.

  Later that afternoon Mike updated Sheriff Taylor and Sean Mark about the most recent homicides at Zion. Only one death, Ms. Mildred Riley, had actually occurred in Coconino County, but Mike had been asked by the FBI to coordinate the Arizona search, and Sheriff Taylor agreed that he should continue that role as long as the FBI wanted him to be involved.

  “Mike, do you think the Park Sniper is ex military? Have the FBI been looking into that possibility?” Sean asked.

  “I’m sure that would be one of the first things the FBI checked when this homicide spree began months ago. By now, they probably know he’s not ex military, but Agent Goldman never brought up that subject with me. They’re not very talkative.”

  Sheriff Taylor explained, “There are thousands of non-military sniper fan-boys. I suggest you check buyers of magazines like Sniper, Sniper Central, and Firepower. Someplace in Coconino County must sell them and the way he’s moving around, he not getting any in the mail. My guess is that the Park Sniper would hate to miss an issue with the latest information about new weapons, and I think he wouldn’t get the same enjoyment from the digital version if there is one.”

  Mike was a little surprised that the sheriff even knew the names of the magazines. “I’ll stop by Barnes & Noble on the way home. They have the biggest selection of magazines in town. You suspect the sniper might have picked up the current issues when he was in the area?”

  Sheriff Taylor smiled. “I know a couple of people who would never miss an issue. It’s like the firearms version of porn. One acquaintance of mine has had over forty rifles in his basement, most with scopes. He keeps a three-foot high stack of Sniper next to his recliner. Guys like that would never miss an issue. We know our killer was camping at the top of the Oak Creek switchbacks just ten miles from Flagstaff the night before Millie was murdered. It’s a long shot but worth a try.”

  Mike stopped by the courthouse in downtown Flagstaff and persuaded a friendly jurist to sign a warrant. The case had been widely covered in the local press and Millie Riley had been very popular because of her charitable work.

  It was extremely busy on Milton Street at 5:00 as Mike drove to the Barnes & Noble. The road was next to the NAU campus and one of the main routes from downtown Flagstaff to I-17 and I-10. Mike always avoided it when heading home to Sedona in the evening. The Barnes & Noble parking lot was almost full, but as he walked up to the store he noticed two outside cameras. Inside he saw several more. Mike checked out the magazine section and found the current issue of both Sniper and Firepower. He showed his badge to a clerk and asked to speak to the manager.

  The manager introduced herself as Ms. Jan Payne and offered her hand to shake. She was in her fifties with auburn hair, hazel eyes, and clear very white skin. She had a pleasant smile and a firm handshake.

  “How may I help Captain Damson?”

  “Thank you for seeing me. I’m investigating the homicide of Mildred Riley, and I hope you can help.”

  “Oh poor Millie. She was one of our best customers. Everyone in the store loved her. She bought almost a hundred books a month, mostly children’s books and English as a second language books to donate to her many charities. She came in every Saturday to see what was new in the children’s section. How can we help
?”

  “You probably read that she was killed sniper-style from over a kilometer away. I noticed that you have several magazines, Sniper and Firepower. Sheriff Taylor suggested that someone who buys those magazines, especially if they’re not locals, might be worth checking on.”

  “Oh my Lord, corporate headquarters would never permit that without a warrant. Even with a warrant they might want to fight it.”

  Mike smiled and handed her the warrant. She nodded and said, “Good. We’re at your service. Exactly what records do you want? I think there is no need for me to involve the corporate office in your request.” Her expression indicated that they might be sharing a secret about her easy acquiescence. Mike suspected that the headquarters would not approve.

  Mike explained that he wanted records of the sales of specific magazines over the past two weeks. Within minutes, Mike had a printout of the sales slips that included his targeted magazines. There were only four sales of Sniper magazine and three of those were to locals. The fourth was to a man who purchased six magazines and paid cash.

  Mike pointed to a camera and asked, “Ms. Payne, how long do you keep the video recordings.”

  “At least a month. They eventually record new information on the hard drive, but we’ll still have video from your targeted timeframe.”

  One of the outdoor cameras showed a Mercedes camper van pull up and park in a handicap place. It had a pop-up top. A man who looked like Sebastian Gorka got out and went inside. Mike recovered a series of video clips of the sniper in the Barnes & Noble, but by far the best was a close-up of his face when he checked out. Mike transferred them to a thumb drive. He thanked Ms. Payne and asked to speak to the clerk who had handled the transaction.

  He showed the clerk, Judy Boyd, the video clip. “Of course, I remember that specific transaction. At first I thought it was a TV personality named Gorka. The man even had a similar accent, but up close, I realized he wasn’t that minor celebrity, just a look-alike. He bought such an odd collection of magazines, not what I would have expected. He bought three gun magazines and two other men’s magazines. Mike thanked Ms. Boyd and Ms. Payne and headed back to the law enforcement building.

  Mike made arrangements for the operations department to send the close-up of his face to the distribution list they had made for law enforcement and employees of state and national parks. He had the whole contents of the thumb drive sent as an email attachment to Agent Goldman and then called Adam Goldman on his cellphone.

  “What do you need Mike?” Goldman answered.

  “Our operations department just sent you a series of files that show our Gorka look-alike buying magazines at the local Barnes & Noble. There is one close-up as he checked out that I’ve distributed to our Arizona law enforcement contact list. In the photo you can see a half-inch mole to the right of his right eye. There are black hairs growing from it. Next to the mole are some sideburns that also appear to be black and gray. In this close-up, you can also make out the tip of a tattoo at the collar on his left side. I’m not sure, but it might be the tip of a bird’s wing, maybe an eagle tattoo. The brown receding hair looks like a hairpiece rather than real hair, so if I had to guess, I think his normal hair color is black and gray. He has tattoos obscured by his collared and long sleeve blue shirt. The first tape shows him arriving in his Mercedes van.”

  “I’ve pulled it up on my cellphone. Damn Mike, that’s better than a mug shot. We know he’s changed is appearance, but we couldn’t have a better resolution photo. I’ll send the digital files to Quantico and distribute the photo to adjoining states. Thank you. Good work.”

  “It was actually Sheriff Taylor’s suggestion. You should thank him.”

  “What’s his number? I’ll give him a call.”

  Sheriff Taylor had gone for the day, but Mike provided his cellphone number and said goodbye. He called Margaret to let het know that he would be almost an hour late for dinner before he headed down to Sedona.

  Dinner that night was a traditional salad niçoise with anchovies and served with homemade sesame crisp bread. Mike suspected that Margaret had noticed that his pants were getting a little tighter and switched to lighter French cuisine. They talked about their upcoming vacation rather than Mike’s current case during dinner on the deck. Margaret had opened a bottle of excellent imported Burgundy.

  During dessert, Margaret explained that she had talked to their son John, an investment banker in New York, and his wife Sue, a homemaker with two seven-year-old twins.

  She showed a big smile. “I have some very good news. They’ve decided to join us in Paris for a week. Our rented apartment has two bedrooms and Jenny and Lisa can sleep on the living room couch; it makes into a bed. It will be so much fun to see Paris with the twins.”

  Mike grinned. He was thrilled to have them in Paris, especially because it would give him something to do with the family while Margaret was in cooking class.

  “That’s wonderful news. I’m excited about showing Jenny and Lisa the fantastic beauty of the City of Lights. We don’t get to spend enough time with John and Sue because they’re so busy in New York. I’ll really enjoy going places in Paris with the whole family.”

  Later that evening, the talk turned back to the sniper case. Mike showed Margaret the photo from the Barnes & Noble. She looked at it carefully.

  “Of course you’ve noticed the disguise. That’s clearly a hairpiece. I think the killer is mostly bald with a fringe of black and gray hair. He also looks a little chubbier than the real Gorka. You couldn’t have a better photo if he’d sat for a portrait.”

  “I only wish the FBI was willing to make the case public. That photo needs to be on the evening news in every state in the west.”

  “I think it’s strange too. You told me that Agent Goldman said he agreed the case should be public, but higher ups in the Justice Department refused to permit it. Did they give a reason?”

  “I can ask again about distribution the next time I speak with him. I recall we have a hike with Wanda and Richard planned for tomorrow. Where are we going?”

  “You know how strong hikers they are. They want to have a picnic on top of Wilson Mountain. I promised to fix the lunch, but you’ll need to carry a pack with ice to keep things cool on the hike.”

  The Wilson Mountain hike was one of the most difficult in the area. He wasn’t pleased that he would need to carry a backpack with all the picnic fixings to the two thousand five hundred feet of elevation gain.

  From his expression Margaret realized he was hesitant. “You and Richard can divide the food and wine. Wanda and I will carry the picnic blanket, plastic wine glasses and plastic plates in our backpacks. It won’t be that heavy, besides we can both use the exercise.”

  Mike had no response to that comment. She was right.

  Chapter 15

  Spring in Sedona is a delightful time of year. Wildflowers were blooming, the sky was a cloudless indigo, and the weather was cool, which was perfect for a strenuous hike. They laughed and joked as they parked at the Midgley Bridge parking lot, but Mike couldn’t help but remember that the Park Sniper had used the same lot to focus his sniper rifle on Mildred Riley. Margaret could tell that they had chosen the wrong hike if the point of the recreation had been to divert Mike’s attention from worry about the Park Sniper.

  Breathing hard from the steep climb up the switchbacks, they rested on the Wilson Shoulder admiring the view. Then, they continued on to the top, which had been a gain in elevation of 2,500 feet. Margaret and Mike put on their jackets in the cooler air of the mountaintop. The four walked though the remains of what had once been a beautiful pine forest. Ninety percent of the Ponderosa had burned in a fire caused by an illegal campfire during a type-two fire restriction period. The camper who started the massive fire had never been caught. Margaret was pleased that the area was coming back with many small bushes, Ponderosa seedlings, and wildflowers. A few of the hundred-year-old giants had survived to reseed the area, but the dense forest they had known on th
eir earlier hikes to the top would not grow back in their lifetime.

  They hiked through the area of fallen trees until they reached the Sedona Overlook, a sheer cliff two thousand five hundred feet above their famous tourist town. They gazed at the spectacular panorama pointing at the various rock formations. Margaret indicated the distant object that was their hilltop home as well as Wanda and Richard’s home near the Sedona Airport. They took out binoculars and enjoyed the view for a few minutes. Margaret and Wanda were spreading out the picnic lunch when Mike’s cellphone rang. He knew it was Agent Goldman and considered not answering. Instead he walked away from the others to speak to the FBI agent in private.

  “Mike, I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, but I thought you’d want to know,” Adam Goldman began. Mike knew he would soon hear of another death.

  “Yes, I do want to know. Has he killed again?”

  “Probably. Early this morning a single ranger was on duty at the entrance gate at Bryce Canyon National Park. She was shot four times with a 45 pistol. The only thing we found that connects this homicide to the Park Sniper was that the photo from Barnes & Noble video had been posted in the gatehouse last night. It was missing when the victim was discovered. There are no cameras at the gate.”

  “Was the sniper’s photo posted where someone driving up could see it?” Mike asked.

  “No. We assume the ranger reacted in someway, but the sniper must have gotten out of his vehicle to take the photo out of the gatehouse. We have a team looking for fingerprints, but I suspect he was too careful. We got no fingerprints, even partials, from the Ford 150 he dumped at Zion. We also got none from the camper van that he probably drove and lived in for months. We even wiped the gas cap. We also assume that he’ll do more to change his appearance now that he knows about the photo.”

  “There must be places that sell disguises somewhere nearby. Most places don’t carry hairpieces like the Sebastian Gorka one, but changing his looks will be his highest priority. If he looks closely at that photo he’ll realize his mole and a part of his tattoo shows. He’ll want to hide those. You could try and trace him by looking at places that sell things that will change his looks. However, I think your best strategy would be to distribute that photo to all of the news outlets.”