Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
H ANNA WAITED TWENTY MINUTES for the box of Joe’s case files to be brought up from storage. It was simply one box. When she signed for it and took it to a cubicle, she studied it for a moment before she opened it. One box for two murders and a near murder. In this day and age, there would be a room full of boxes of evidence for such an investigation.
She opened the box and took all the items out: two thick file folders, one for the homicides and one thinner one for the arrest report. She started with the homicide folder. On top were photos of the cabin, Beecher’s Mine cabin. It hadn’t been completely destroyed. Obviously, fire had torn through the small building, but two walls still stood. By the time she’d gotten up there with Jared, the years had taken down those walls. There were remnants of meth-cooking hardware; some of the pictures were labeled. Bottles labeled acid , trash, and liquor bottles. There were pictures of blood spatter—a lot of blood. Some were labeled Victim One and some were labeled Victim Two .
There were no pictures of Chase.
Hanna rifled through everything and could find no photos of the one living victim. That was odd. He would have been part of the investigation. There should have been photos to document his injuries.
Things got odd with the report narrative. Reporting officers were notified by an unnamed subject that there had been a shooting at Beecher’s Mine cabin. He told officers that he heard gunshots and saw Joseph Keyes running away from the cabin. He also reported that he saw smoke coming from the cabin. Reporting officers arrived at Beecher’s Mine cabin and found it almost completely engulfed in fire.
She skimmed the whole report. The “unnamed subject” was never named, not even to be redacted. Observations that someone had been cooking meth followed once the fire was extinguished. There was nothing about Chase, or anyone else. Most of the pages were lab reports on the different substances removed from the scene. It was a meth lab.
Frowning, she turned her attention to the arrest report. Joe was arrested at the hospital in Sonora. He was pulled off the maternity floor. In 1991 officers did not have to file a probable-cause declaration. The simple arrest report declared that officers again followed the tip by the unnamed subject. He saw Joe Keyes running from the cabin.
They also noted that Joe had been suspected in the explosion that destroyed another meth lab a month prior. An older crime report was attached. It was more detailed than anything concerning the Beecher’s Mine fire. Hanna had heard the story before, but this was the first official report she’d read that wasn’t town gossip. The meth lab had exploded on county land. And the investigator mentioned DEA Agent Gilly, including the agent’s theory about the cause. Gilly believed the lab had been booby-trapped; the cooker destroyed it when he was discovered.
Hanna paused for a moment. Chase Buckley and Blake and Sophia Carson were also mentioned in the report. Sophia Carson was seriously burned but denied knowing about the lab. She and Blake claimed they were hiking and saw the fire and went over to investigate. Chase found them wandering in the forest and took them to the hospital. Blake was arrested at first but released.
Gilly left a note naming the known drug deals in the county. Joe Keyes was on the top of the list. At the time of filing, there was no evidence to say conclusively who was responsible for the meth lab explosion. She noted that there was only a brief sentence concerning Chase—he was not a suspect in any way. But the details about Joe and the Carsons were meticulous, even though no one was arrested for that incident. Hanna frowned, noting all the investigation and interviews connected to the older report. Why hadn’t all that been done for the Beecher’s Mine investigation?
Joe was arrested, and twelve hours later he confessed. All investigation stopped.
Hanna stood and began to pace. Running her fingers through her hair, she thought about all the information in Marcus’s book, all the stories about the murders she’d heard her whole life. Where did all that come from? Certainly not from Joe. Her mother was right about Marcus’s imagination.
The only other thing in the box was the transcript from Joe’s confession. Hanna sat back down and began to read.
I, Joseph M. Keyes, confess to the murder of Blake and Sophia Carson. I was up at the old Beecher’s Mine cabin to cook a batch of meth with them. While we were cooking, we fought. Blake wanted a bigger cut. I killed him and then Sophia when she got in the way. Chase came by. He was mad that we were cooking in his father’s cabin. He saw Blake and Sophia. We got in an argument, and I threw acid. I was high; I don’t remember anything else. I thought I killed Chase. I turned stuff over and started the fire, then I ran.
Less than half a page. No details. He should have had to give details for the judge to accept his confession.
She looked over all the names involved in the arrest. Sheriff Don Peterson. DA Geoff Robbins. Judge Walter Griggs. All three men were now dead. The public defender was listed as Alister Driscoll, and Hanna was not familiar with that name. She made a note to do an internet search and check with the court. There should be more names. In a double homicide of this magnitude, she couldn’t believe that only three people were involved in the investigation.
The rest of the evidence was likewise weak. Shards of an acid bottle with Joe’s fingerprints on them. A cast from Joe’s shoe print found near the cabin. There was evidence of a fair amount of blood in parts of the cabin that had not been destroyed by fire, later determined to belong to Blake and Sophia. Nothing about DEA Agent Gilly.
Hanna went through everything three times. There was nothing here that would have convicted Joe in court. He never even made a statement about where the Carsons’ bodies were or what he’d killed them with. More than that, when would he have had time to put their bodies in barrels and dump them in the lake?
She stood and paced. Something was so very off here. Her phone rang. The county recovery team called to tell her that the equipment was in place to remove the car. Frustrated, confused, and a little angry, Hanna returned the evidence box to the custodian of records and headed back to Dry Oaks. On the way, she called and asked a court clerk to check on Driscoll for her. The clerk said they would call her back.
Nathan paced his office, frustration spurring every step. Not only did this thing with Jared Hodges rub him the wrong way, but no matter which way they turned in the investigation, they hit a dead end. Edda’s car still had not been found. The techies were all over social media, trying to trace the guy who hooked the first two victims. Subpoenas had been served for their phone records, but none of the information was getting them any closer to finding the killer. He wished he could light a fire under the state lab regarding the DNA.
Nathan now concentrated on the vehicle: the SUV Colby identified. Looking for an SUV owned by a Hanna Keyes fan who might be a serial killer. Going through the number of Chevy Tahoes registered in the county was daunting, according to Manny.
“Concentrate on the local ones first,” Nathan suggested.
When Manny produced a list, he was happy to see that there weren’t that many. A few notable owners caught his eye. Everett Buckley had four. Jude Carver had one. Marcus Marshall also had one. Nathan and Manny split up. Nathan headed for Dry Oaks to check out the Tahoes there, and Manny went to handle those in Sonora.
Thinking of Hanna brought the barrels to mind. What a find, after thirty-five years. He prayed that Hanna would get all the answers she needed regarding what had happened with Joe and the Carsons. Nathan also hoped that by returning to Dry Oaks, he could talk to Hanna again and apologize for being so distressed about Jared Hodges. They’d talked about having lunch. He hoped the time opened up in both their schedules.
The car slowly emerged from the water. “That’s an old Mustang,” Jared said. He’d been at the lake when Hanna returned. “Probably from the 1990s.”
“You sure?” Hanna asked.
“I’m a bit of a car guy, remember?” He grinned.
“I remember. But the Carsons didn’t have a Mustang. In all the crimes Joe is accused of, there is no mention of a car.”
“Not related?”
“It can’t be. But if it’s from the 1990s...” Her voice trailed off. What on earth was going on?
When the dripping, rusted vehicle was placed on shore, it was clear that it was indeed a Ford Mustang. Asa walked around the vehicle, noting the plates. “This is a government car.” He relayed the plate number to dispatch. A few minutes later, they got the return that had everyone scratching their heads.
“That plate returns to a missing vehicle and missing person: Brett T. Gilly. There are alerts attached, and the FBI is requesting notification.”
Keys still in the ignition, there was a soaked, packed suitcase in the trunk, but nothing else in the car—no body, no indication where Gilly might be.
Reporters were everywhere, asking for comments. Hanna had none.
“What a mess,” Hanna said to Jared. “The Feds will be here.”
“Didn’t they search for him thirty-five years ago?”
“They did. According to Everett Buckley, they tore the town apart. There was a federal presence here for six months.”
“Obviously they didn’t search hard enough.”
Hanna asked the county team to do one more thorough search of the lake.
“It’s unlikely that we’ll find a body if it wasn’t placed in a barrel like the first two,” the head diver told her. “Or wrapped and weighted. Sonar picks up those objects more reliably. We’ll do our best.”
Hanna thanked them, and after the Mustang was loaded up on a flatbed, it was time to head back to the office to deal with the press. The PD itself didn’t have a press office; that was handled by the county. She had to put something together for them.
“I wish there was something I could do for you, Hanna,” Jared said. “This is a circus, isn’t it?”
“It is. You’ve wasted your day off here at the lake.”
“Hey, you know me; I always enjoyed the circus.”
Hanna relaxed, thankful for the distraction and the lightness of the moment. “Enjoy your time off.” She smiled. “Maybe I should have been a firefighter.”
He laughed. “No, Hanna, you’re right where you should be. In the circus there is always one great lion tamer; that’s you. Go get ’em.”
It was her turn to laugh. “That conjures up an image of a whip and a chair. Sometimes I wish the press could be handled that way.” She turned from Jared, a little bit of the stress gone. Yes, she could handle this. It was what she’d signed up for.
“I promise to have a statement for you all in the next couple of hours,” she said as she made her way back to her car. “I’ll issue a statement from city hall.” She got in her car and eased away from the crowds.
Back on the road, Nathan came to mind. He’d not yet discovered where Edda’s vehicle was, but now they knew it wasn’t in the lake. The jealousy situation with Nathan still bugged her. In spite of everything going on around her, she hoped there was a way they could straighten out things between them.
She called him using hands-free and the call went to voicemail.
“It’s just me, wondering how your investigation is going. Call me when you have a chance.”
At the station, the preliminary autopsy report on the bodies from the barrel was in her e-mail. Both Carsons died from gunshot wounds to the head with a 9mm caliber weapon. Both wounds were through and through, there were no slugs or bullet fragments in the barrels. Death would have been quick. They were likely killed elsewhere and then placed in barrels to be concealed. As best as the coroner could estimate, the bodies had been in the barrels, in the water, for at least thirty-five years.
Hanna wished that there was one law enforcement person she could talk to from that time who’d been involved in the investigation. If there had been a PD here when the murders happened, she might have more information. But the Carsons were killed in a different time on a different watch. Nothing was even computerized back then.
The sparseness of the reports still bothered her, though. She could think of no reliable resource from that time, save Everett Buckley and—her father.
Fatigue enveloped Hanna, and she stepped up to the coffee station to make a fresh pot.
“Knock, knock.”
Turning, she saw Mayor Milton. “I’ve come to help you with the press release. There sure are a lot of news outlets in town. My phone has been ringing off the hook.”
“Yep. We’ve stepped on a hornet’s nest, haven’t we?”
“Maybe not. Maybe we’re just closing the books on some old mysteries.”
“Yeah, but there will still be a lot of questions.”
“I don’t think so. We know who murdered the Carsons; now we can guess that he killed Gilly as well.”
“Can we?” Hanna stared at Mayor Milton. She was certainly confident. “Joe confessed so easily and quickly to the Carson murders. Don’t you think that if he had killed Gilly, he would have confessed to that as well?”
“Not necessarily. Killing a federal agent would have likely made him eligible for the federal death penalty. Joe’s confession was self-serving, so he would not face the state death penalty. If they could have pinned Gilly’s murder on him, he would not have avoided a federal death sentence.”
Hanna considered this. The mayor wasn’t wrong. Joe confessing to local crimes kept everything local. But so much of this was bothersome. The timing, how did Joe get the Carsons into barrels and into the water before his arrest? He was picked up at the hospital right after the fire was put out. The tip was anonymous; the tipster never deposed or identified. When did Joe drive the car into the lake?
“Are you okay, Hanna?” Mayor Milton looked worried.
“Yeah, yeah, mind’s wandering, I’m tired. Coffee is ready. Would you like a cup?”
“Sure. Then let’s hammer out this press release.”