The Botanist (14 page)

“So what happened to Jonathin?”

“I talked to some local old timers who had some intriguing stories. Jonathin and his father butted heads. Alastair wanted his son to grunt and sweat and run the ranch with him. Jonathin was, shall we say, more artsy. He wanted to go to art school, but his father refused to pay for it. Jonathin packed his bags and ran away to the army.”

Cody waited but Stieger didn’t go on. “And?”

“And nothing. That’s it. He left and never came back. When his father died, people tried to locate him—sent out letters and legal notices and such about the property—but he never responded and he never showed.”

“Just fell off the planet, huh?”

“Seems that way.”

Cody digested what he’d just learned.

“Well, it’s interesting, but there’s no obvious link to the case.”

“Doesn’t seem so, does it?”

Something in Stieger’s voice made Cody turn. “You think there is?”

Stieger shrugged. “Nothing concrete. If Jonathin Landes is still alive, he would be in his mid-fifties. I’m not sure about his looks or stature—didn’t find any photos of him—but he could be our desert grave digger.”

“Is there anything in the history to suggest that he might have been psychotic?”

“Not yet, but this is hardly comprehensive.”

“Stieger, how would you like to become a temporary employee of the Mt. Dessicate Police Department?”

Stieger grinned. “Get paid for my work? Revolutionary idea, that.”

Cody smiled. “Can you access military records? See if you can pull Jonathin’s personnel files? If he was off his rocker, military tests might have revealed it. He may have been discharged or even rejected as a military candidate. Talk to some more locals as well. See what else you can find out about the family. Maybe part of Jonathin’s flight had to do with some kind of abuse going on in the home.”

“It won’t be easy to get the old timers to talk about that, even if they knew it was going on at the time—I’ve already tried. They’re from the era of hiding dirty linen behind white picket fences.”

“I don’t envy you the task. Just do the best you can. Also, see if you can find anything linking these two names: Jonathin Landes and Daniel Nath Jones. It could be that Jonathin just used a different name for his business. On the other hand, he might have legally changed it, which is why we can’t find any background on Jones. If that’s the case, maybe he didn’t want to be found, which begs the question of why.”

“Or who he was hiding from,” Stieger said, nodding.

“Exactly.”

“I found one other strange thing, and I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“Tell me.”

“I looked through some old reports and newspaper articles from when Alastair died. There are some things that don’t add up, but I’m hoping more digging will help me understand.”

“Like what?”

“First of all, there’s a police report and a coroner’s report on him.”

Cody arched an eyebrow. “Did the police suspect foul play?”

“I’m not sure. Like I said, I need to dig some more. Jonathin was long gone before his father died and Alastair was alone at the time of his death. Perhaps it was just a matter of finding a dead body, and needing to make sure that the death was natural. That
was
the conclusion that both the ME and police came to. Alastair also hired a transient to help him do ranch work. No one in town liked the guy. There are some pretty sinister rumors about him.”

“What do you suspect?”

“I honestly don’t know. I found out that Alastair’s old ranch house is still standing. It’s a ruin, but I thought I might go check it out. Care to join me, Detective?”

Cody glanced back toward the station. He knew he shouldn’t. He ought to stay and absorb more of those files, but a quick field trip and some fresh air was too much to resist.

“Actually, yeah. We should take separate cars, though. I might get called back sooner than you want to come.”

Stieger nodded. “Do you know where it is?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”

Chapter 23

Cody sighed. He stopped at a red light and took the opportunity to lean his head back against the car’s headrest and shut his eyes for a few seconds. The details of the case swirled inside his skull like debris in a tornado, but he was so tired he couldn’t grab on to any of them. There weren’t many tornados in Utah.

The light turned green and Cody sat up straight and accelerated. He glanced to the right. In a small parking lot a sign that read
“
Janet’s” 
was lit up.
Janet’s
was a ma-and-pop convenience store that had been operating since before Cody was born.

Something struck him.

Many of the more seasoned uniforms were being used for leg work: following leads, collecting information, talking to people, that sort of thing. Just before leaving the station for the evening, Cody had come across a report that said all the local grocery stores had been visited, but no one could remember any strange customers who might have bought a lot of blue food coloring. A list of the stores visited was at the bottom of the report. Now, thinking back, Cody was sure
Janet’s
wasn’t on that list. He supposed it made sense, but it was exactly the problem with having out-of-towners do leg work in Mt. Dessicate: they didn’t know the area. They didn’t know what to search for, didn’t know what was normal and what wasn’t.

Whoever had done the investigating had probably used a local phonebook and looked for all the grocery store chains, but
Janet’s
was a tiny, family-run business. It wouldn’t be under “grocery” in the yellow pages, if it was in the phonebook at all. And the name didn’t exactly scream food.

It was probably close to closing time, and Stieger was waiting for him at the Landes place, but Cody decided to stop in anyway. It couldn’t hurt.

A bell nailed to the top of the door tinkled as Cody entered. A woman in her thirties stood behind the single register in the place. She glanced up from her novel, but went back to it before speaking.

“If you’re gonna shop, do it quick. We close in five.”

Cody walked toward her. “Actually”—he got out his badge —“I’m not here to shop. I wondered if I might ask you a few questions.”

The book dropped to the counter, forgotten, and the woman, whose hand-written nametag read “Marg,” folded her arms atop the counter and leaned forward, studying Cody with interest.

She looked him up and down. “You look familiar. You been on TV?”

Cody felt his cheeks warm. “Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “There’ve been a lot of cameras around lately. I’m Detective Oliver.”

“You aren’t the one that actually found the bodies, are you?”

“Actually, I am.”

Her eyes got wider, if that was possible, and her mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds. She looked at the counter, then back up at him, but still said nothing. Cody thought she was trying to be both curious and tactful at the same time, and what that amounted to was a complete loss for words.

“Well, uh,” she finally managed, “how’s that goin’?”

He smiled. “We’re working on it, day and night.”

Marg shivered. “It’s so scary. I never been one to lock my door, Detective, but the second I saw the news, I made my husband march right out and buy a deadbolt.”

“That’s understandable. It
is
scary. But don’t you worry. We’ll get the guy, and make the town safe again.”

Marg took a deep breath, as though to calm herself, then put on a polite customer service smile. “So what can I help you with detective?”

“Actually, I’m not sure that you can. I know I’m not supposed to ask a woman her age, but you look too young to help me.”

Marg’s smile lit up her face. “Well, you sure do know how to lay on the butter, dontcha, Detective?”

Cody chuckled. “How long you been working here, Marg?”

“Since I was about fifteen.”

“Hm. Do you remember any customers who might have bought a lot of blue food coloring?”

Her smile faded a bit. “Huh?”

That was answer enough, he supposed.

“Well, Colleen Hinckle always buys a bottle or two around the holidays. That’s more than most. How much is a lot?”

“More than a bottle or two. I’m talking by the case, or with constancy. This person may not have been in for years. If that’s the case, he would have stocked up. If no one buys it more constantly than Colleen, it would probably have bought many cases years ago. Ring any bells?”

Marg shook her head. “Nothing comes to mind.”

Cody nodded. It had been a long shot to begin with. “I don’t suppose there’s anyone who’s worked here longer than you? Say, twenty or twenty-five years?”

“My dad has. My grandpa opened this store when he first married my grandma. My dad started working here when he was a teenager, same as me.” She grinned proudly.

Cody smiled. “Is there a way I can get in touch with your father? Ask him a few questions?”

“He’s in the back doing inventory. I’ll get him for you.”

“Thanks.”

She walked the length of the counter and disappeared through an ordinary-looking door. Cody leaned on the counter to wait.

Minutes later she reappeared with a shorter, plumper, balder version of herself. Her father was heavyset and wore horn-rimmed glasses, but had a kindly look about him.

“Hullo, Detective.” The man shifted his clipboard to his left hand and stuck out his right. “I’m Greg Coleson, owner. My daughter tells me you’re working the Botanist case and have some questions for me.”

“Nice to meet you, sir. Just one question, and it’s an odd one, to be sure. In your recollection, did you ever have a customer that bought large amounts of blue food coloring?”

Mr. Coleson smiled at first, as his daughter had, at the absurdity of the question, and opened his mouth to speak, but then he stopped, frowned, and looked down at the counter. He turned his head and studied the wall. “Actually, I have.”

Cody’s heart leapt into his throat. “You
have?”

Coleson shook his head slowly. His smile was one of quiet awe. “You know, Detective, I haven’t thought about that man in years.”

Cody’s pulse pounded, his exhaustion forgotten. “What man? Who was he?”

“I never knew his name. This was . . . twenty years ago, maybe more.”

“What can you tell me about him?”

“He was a strange man; no one in town much liked him. He got work over on the Landes farm. Ol’ Alastair was the only one didn’t seem disturbed by him.”

“Why were people disturbed?”

“Don’t know. He was just a strange sort; made the hairs on the back of your arm stand up, you know? I remember my wife waiting on him once, then telling me if he came back in she wanted me to do it. He creeped her out too much.”

“And he bought a lot of food coloring?”

“Tons. Actually, that’s all he bought. Back then the stuff only came in glass bottles, in cases of twelve. He would come in when my truck arrived and buy the entire case. I started holding two or three bottles back in storage until after he came so there’d be some for other customers who wanted it. Even if I brought in two or three cases a week, he’d buy ’em all.”

“Whatever happened to him?”

“Don’t know. After Alastair died, he disappeared.”

“Can you think of anyone who would know his name?”

“Anyone who knew Alastair well might remember,” Coleson said with a hint of apology. “I knew him by reputation, but I couldn’t even call myself an acquaintance.”

“Anything else you remember about him that you could tell me?”

Coleson thought for a moment, but shook his head.

“Well, thank you Mr. Coleson, Marg. You’ve been very helpful.”

Cody smiled and turned to leave, but stopped when Coleson addressed him again.

“Detective?”

He seemed hesitant, and Cody stepped toward him again. “Yes? What is it?”

Coleson shrugged uncomfortably. “I never knew much about that man, but that’s because I didn’t want to. He was the kind of guy that just gave you a cold feeling, you know? If he’s somehow involved in that . . . ugliness out in the desert . . .” Coleson trailed off and looked out the window in the general direction of the mass grave. He shuddered, then met Cody’s gaze again. “You just take care of yourself, detective.”

Cody smiled, though his stomach had gone cold. “I will, sir. Thank you again.”

Chapter 24

An hour later, Cody sighed and rubbed his face with the heels of his hands. The description Griffith had given Stieger was all too accurate: the two remaining buildings on the Landes property were barely fit to be called buildings. The house had been gutted. Only two walls were left standing. Mildew and mothballs garnished every surface. The smell of rotting wood permeated the air.

The barn held up better. Most of the structure was still there, but the roof, as well as the east wall, had several man-sized holes in them, and there was nothing inside but some black straw on the ground and old, rusted tools.

Cody had been studying in circles for the past half an hour. If he hadn’t found anything by now, he never would. Grateful to move into fresher air, he headed farther out on the property to join Stieger. He found the older man staring out over a fence made of wooden posts and barbed wire. Beyond it was a meadow of greenish-yellow grass, and tiny, light blue flowers that grew in concentrated, random clumps.

Stieger turned his head when he heard Cody’s footsteps. “Find anything?” he asked when Cody was beside him.

“Lots of initials surrounded by hearts carved into the walls. Dust bunnies to keep the mothballs company. That’s about it. You?”

Stieger jerked his chin toward the field. “Dirt. Grass. Shrubs. Flowers.”

Cody was about to suggest they head back to the station when something occurred to him. He frowned.

“What is it?” Stieger asked, seeing his expression.

“These flowers. I haven’t seen them before. They’re not desert flowers.”

“Maybe they’re imported.”

“Exactly. You aren’t from around here, don’t know the climate. Only desert shrubs will grow out here naturally. Anything else has to be specially cared for.”

“Are you saying the Botanist cultivated these?”

“I’m saying he’s a creature of habit.”

Cody fell into a crouch, but even that was not enough. He leaned forward, resting his weight on his knees and laid his cheek against the ground.

There it was.

The densest concentrations of flowers were atop small mounds of dirt. They were so small and the meadow around them rolled just enough that they were hard to distinguish except from ground level. He looked up to find Stieger frowning at him quizzically.

“Join me down here, Stieger. Look at this.”

Stieger quirked an eyebrow at Cody, eyes shifting from right to left.

“Trust me,” Cody said. “This is something you want to see.”

After a moment, Stieger shrugged. He knelt where he was, put his cheek to the ground and gazed in the same direction Cody was. He let out a soft gasp. “More mounds.” He raised his head to look at Cody. “Do you think they’re more human bodies?”

Cody sighed, sitting back on his heels. “They’re awfully small, but I suppose it would depend on how deep he buried . . . whatever it is.” Cody got to his feet and went back to the barn. He’d seen a rusty shovel in there. When he returned, Stieger was in the same place but had gotten to his feet.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Cody said, hefting the shovel.

“Can we? Shouldn’t we call CSU or something?”

“Yes, we should, but it’ll take them an hour to get out here and we’re already losing the light. I’ll disturb as little as possible, but I want to know if we’re dealing with more bodies.”

Twenty minutes later, Cody had uncovered an entire skeleton. It was barely as big as his two fists together.

“What is that?” Stieger asked from over his shoulder. “Squirrel?”

Cody shook his head. “Groundhog, I think. Not too many squirrels out here.” The animal was small with a delicate skeletal structure. An obvious deformity in the spine hyper-extended the head and neck back toward the tail.

“Looks like its neck was broken,” Stieger said.

“Yeah.”

“So these are a bunch of animal graves?”

Cody glanced around and did a quick count. “Twelve, to be exact.”

Stieger
’s eyebrows climbed. He turned in a circle, lips moving silently as he counted. “You’re right,” he said when he’d finished. “Definitely a creature of habit.”

Cody glanced back toward the vacant house and barn. The wind fluttered through the meadow’s grass, and the blue flowers swayed gently. Suddenly the place felt lonely.

“This is where his psychosis was born.” Cody straightened his legs. “He was out here torturing and killing animals under Alastair’s nose for . . . who knows how long? At some point, he escalated to human violence.”

“You think it was Charles, then? Or Jonathin?” Stieger asked.

Cody shook his head. “Hard to say which yet. But it’s sure looking like it was one of them.”

Stieger nodded.

Voices brought Cody’s head around and he turned in time to see two teenagers, a boy and a girl, come around the Landes barn. It took them several seconds to notice Cody and Stieger, but the instant they did, they both froze, looking like deer that had just wandered into a semi’s high beams.

“Hey! You two! Come here.”

The two teenagers glanced nervously between Cody and Stieger. Then they shared a look, turned, and took off.

“Hey! Wait!” Cody chased them. When he came around the barn they were fifty yards ahead of him, but still clearly visible. There was a stand of aspen trees a quarter mile up the road, but other than that, the property didn’t have many trees, only low desert shrubs and sagebrush dotted the terrain. “Mt. Dessicate PD. Stop!”

The boy stopped. The girl ran a few more paces before realizing her companion wasn’t with her anymore, and followed suit. Cody jogged up to them. Stieger’s steady footfalls thudded behind him.

When Cody reached the two youths, they were both trembling with fear.

“We didn’t do anything.” The boy had long brown hair and clothes that screamed musician.

“Then why’d you run?”

“It’s not just us,” the girl whined, pushing waist-length black hair over her shoulder. “Everyone comes here.”

“Relax. I’m not here to bust you,” Cody said. Technically this was public land, so they weren’t trespassing, but he didn’t say so. They’d have looser tongues if they were afraid of legal consequences. “I just want to ask you some questions. Do you come here a lot?”

The teens exchanged glances, then the boy put his eyes resolutely on the ground. “No.”

Cody rolled his eyes. “I told you I’m not here to get you in trouble. I’m interested in the property, not what you’re”—he glanced between them—“doing out here. Just tell me the truth. Are you out here a lot?”

The boy looked at Cody, sizing him up. Finally he seemed to decide Cody was telling the truth. He sighed. “I been out here a few times.”

The girl’s eyes and mouth widened. “With who?”

Suddenly the boy looked more afraid of her than of Cody. Cody didn’t know whether to laugh or yell. He didn’t have time for teen drama. He waved his hands to get their attention. “All I want to know is if there are any other buildings or structures or places where kids go when they come out here.”

The boy shook his head slowly. “Everyone hangs out in the house, or sometimes the barn, but that’s it. There is one more place, but it’s the opposite of what you said:
no
body wants to go out there.”

“Out where?” Stieger asked, stepping up beside Cody.

“There’s an old shed of some kind a quarter mile out. You can’t see it from here, but it gives everyone the creeps.”

“How come?” Cody asked.

The boy shrugged. “It’s small, kind of boring, but it’s really creepy, too.”

“Why?”

“I went out there once,” the girl put in. Her boyfriend turned a scathing look on her and she held up her hands. “With my girlfriends. It was two years ago on Halloween. We went out there, but I couldn’t get anywhere near the shed.”

“Why not?”

“It just freaked me out. It wasn’t anything that I saw or anything that happened. It was just this freaky feeling. They say Ol’ Man Landes’ ghost is out there, and I believe it. It just felt wrong.”

Cody looked in the direct they’d pointed, out past the field he and Stieger had been staring at minutes earlier. “A quarter mile, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” The boy looked like he wanted to salute.

“Okay, you two. I won’t call your parents. This time. But I want you to do something for me. Spread the word to your friends that the cops are watching this place and we don’t want anyone hanging out here for the time being, okay?”

“Does this have something to do with that psycho in the desert?” the girl asked.

Cody had to choose his words carefully. Not that he would mind scaring some sense into these two, but anything he said could get back to the press. “No, we don’t think so, but with a killer potentially on the loose, it may not be safe for anyone to be out here. You two ought to stay closer to home. Just spread the word, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said again.

“Good. Get going.”

They both hesitated, looking fearfully at him, as though they were afraid he’d throw a hatchet at them when they turned their backs.

“Go on.”

They turned and jogged off. Stieger came to stand beside Cody.

“You grew up around here, didn’t you detective?”

Cody nodded.

“Did you ever come out here as a teenager?”

“I came out with a group of friends on Halloween once, but I’d never heard of this shed. We just played night games in the barn and got buzzed on some beer one kid swiped from his dad’s cooler. I always thought it was a little creepy for a make-out spot.” He glanced at the two retreating teens. “Obviously not everyone feels that way.”

Stieger chuckled.
“So you want to go check out this shed?”

“Yeah. We’d better hurry. It’ll be dark before long.”

Only
a sliver of light blue sky remained in the east when Stieger finally spotted a dark, squatting shadow among the aspens. The tree population rose considerably as they moved away from the house, and Cody hoped they didn’t get lost in the white-pillared forest.

As they approached the small shed—no more than ten feet by ten, with a slanted roof—Cody thought he understood what the girl had meant about feeling creeped out. He didn’t feel afraid, but he had a sensation of adrenaline, as though his heart was racing and his muscles were trembling, only they weren’t. It wasn’t a physical sensation. Cody didn’t know what it was, but it was odd.

The only time he’d ever felt anything like it was when he’d come nose to nose with a pedophile in a barn. The parallel of the two situations chilled him.

Clicking on his flashlight and raising it to his shoulder, he pushed the door inward. The hinges protested loudly, and the smell of decay entered Cody’s nose. He stepped forward, Stieger right behind him, and Cody was glad for the other man’s company.

There was barely room for both of them. The girl had been right about not many people coming to the shed. There were a few shoe prints inside, but not many. Though there was evidence of trodden paths to and around the shed, Cody didn’t think anyone had actually ventured inside for months, possibly years. An ancient spade was half buried in the dirt in one corner and a long, rusty, manual saw with many of its teeth missing leaned against the far wall. Other than that, Cody’s flashlight revealed only what the barn and house had: dust and mothballs.

Plenty of spiders had decorated the corners and crannies with silvery webs, but Cody didn’t see any of the actual critters. Even they had abandoned the shack.

“What do you think?” Stieger asked, making Cody jump. The older man cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know what to think. There’s nothing here.”

“Maybe anything that’s here really is supernatural.”

“Maybe,” Cody murmured. He felt like he should explore more, but there was nothing else to investigate. He could see every part of the one-room shed, and there was nowhere to go without bumping into Stieger.

Cody took a tentative step toward the wall and something beneath his feet creaked. The sound was so soft he wondered if he’d imagined it. He turned back.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, I did.” Stieger was looking at Cody’s boots. Cody stepped back. He stepped all around the area, trying to re-create the creak, but there was only silence. The ground felt solid beneath him. Rising onto the balls of his feet, he tried to thrust his weight downward, into the ground. He did it several times, unsure what he was feeling. If there
was
movement, it was so subtle, he could barely detect it. It certainly wasn’t a visible thing.

“What is it?” Stieger asked.

“The dirt feels hard-packed, but I think it’s giving a little.”

“You think something’s buried?”

Cody got to his knees. “Let’s find out.”

The ground was packed densely enough to be like stone. Cody used the butt of his flashlight to break it up, while Stieger retrieved the old spade from the corner to help. After twenty minutes and six inches of dirt clods, the point of Stieger’s spade hit something that
clunked.

“What was that?” Cody asked. “A rock?”

Stieger shook his head. “Felt more like wood. I think I almost broke through it.”

Further digging revealed an old pine box, but ten minutes later, they still hadn’t found the edges of it.

“How big do you think it is?” Cody wiped sweat from his eyes.

“Can’t be any bigger than the shed, right?”

“You said you almost broke through before?
Can
you break through it?”

Stieger gazed steadily at Cody. “Do you want me to?”

Cody sighed. Was he marring a potential crime scene? Yes. But this wasn’t the city; they were out in the middle of nowhere.

“We need to know what we’re dealing with,” he said. “This could be Gertrude Landes’ hope chest. If that’s the case, there’s no point in dragging everyone out here. If on the other hand . . .”

He didn’t need to finish the thought. Stieger nodded and raised the spade over his head, point toward the ground. With a mighty heave, he thrust it downward. The third thrust produced a loud
crack
as the wood splintered. Cody pulled a pair of work gloves from his pack—perfect for guarding against splinters—and pulled away broken chunks of wood.