Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
EVERETT
I pace inside our conference room, fed up. “It’s him, damn it. I’m sure of it.”
“Just because Vivian worked for the guy doesn’t make him a killer,” our Assistant D.A. Rex Rolland fires back, tossing his pen onto the table.
From where he’s leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, Sheriff Olson gives me a thoughtful glance. “Rolland’s right. We need more.”
“At least now we have this guy’s real name,” Zach says from his chair across from me.
“That was some good work there,” Special Agent Luke Ballard says from the comm line in the center of the table. “I’ve got a team headed to Idaho Falls. They’ll be ready if and when we need to strike. In the meantime, how do we get what we need?”
Bitterroot Community College has no professor named Milankovitch. Neither does Western, Idaho State, or any other of the colleges our five victims attended. But it’s not just a fake name, Milankovitch was a nineteenth century scientist who discovered a variation in earth’s orbit that affects climate, a relationship now known among geologists as Milankovitch Cycles.
It's yet another example of how this guy’s been playing with us.
But thanks to CCTV footage of the Bitterroot Community College café parking lot, we were able to watch the professor get into a silver Honda CR-V registered to a chemical separations scientist from the Idaho National Laboratory named Christopher Tisdale.
It was only when we pulled up his driver’s license that I realized what had tickled my memory: Tisdale was part of the search and rescue team that volunteered the day we found Michelle’s remains in York Springs Mine.
I clench and relax my fists, just to keep from punching the wall. To think this guy has been hiding in plain sight all this time…
“A name isn’t enough,” Assistant D.A. Rolland says. “No judge is going to issue a warrant to do any kind of digging based on what little we have here. Find me something else.”
“Let’s review what we do know,” Ballard says from the speaker.
Zach clicks his laptop, and a new image comes on the screen. “Christopher Tisdale. Attended San Francisco State. Degree in chemistry. Dabbled in pharmacy sales until landing the job at INL. Owns a three bedroom house in Idaho Falls. No marriage license on file or dependents. No prior arrests. On paper, this guy’s clean. Not so much as a parking ticket. He buys an Idaho fishing license and a cross country ski pass to Bear Mountain Nordic Center each season.”
“No other vehicles?” Ballard asks.
“The CRV is the only one registered,” I say.
“When’s trash day in his neighborhood?” Zach asks. “Couldn’t we get his DNA from something he’s discarded?”
“It was this morning,” Ballard says. “But we’ll be there to get it next time.”
“That’s a week from now, though,” I say. “And how long will DNA take?”
“A month, if we’re lucky,” Ballard replies .
I want this guy of the streets yesterday.
“If only we had another meet set up with Vivian,” Ballard adds in that wistful tone that sets my teeth on edge.
I force down the sour lump rising in my throat with a hard swallow. To think Vivian had sat across from this guy, talked to him, taken his money, while all along, he was toying with the idea of killing her.
“You think I’d let this asshole get anywhere near her again?” I say with a scoff.
All eyes turn to me.
“Of course not,” Ballard replies. “But a discarded coffee cup from the café would sure speed along a DNA match.”
“Well, we’re not using Vivian as fucking bait to get it.”
“Understood,” Ballard says.
“Why does he buy a cross country ski pass for Bear Mountain?” I ask, staring at the screen, where the details Zach has assembled have been organized in a single slide.
“And why is he part of Finn River Search and Rescue if he lives in Idaho Falls?” Sheriff Olson says, rubbing his chin.
“Maybe he comes up here for recreation,” Rolland says with a shrug. “Plenty of people do.”
“But he’s not part of other SAR groups,” I say, meeting his skeptical gaze.
“That we know of,” Rolland replies. “That could be something to look at though.”
“Labor intensive,” Ballard says with a sigh. “But I’ll bring it up with the team.”
“What if he’s got a cabin up here?” I ask.
“There’s nothing registered,” Zach says, frowning.
“Maybe it’s not in his name,” I say.
Zach rolls forward and starts typing. “Like a family owned one?”
Sheriff Olson cocks an eyebrow. “Or he rents one.”
Rolland nods. “That I can get behind. Do a deep dive on local properties. Look for a family connection, any history he or his family has to this area. If he’s got access to a local residence, we could put it under surveillance.”
“This is good,” Sheriff Olson says. “Ballard, what’s your ETA?”
“Two hours,” he replies.
Sheriff Olson taps the table. “Let’s reconvene here when you arrive.”
“I’ll take the rental properties angle,” Zach says, glancing at me over his laptop.
I open my screen, an urgent buzz firing through me. “I’ll take the family side.”
But after an hour of digging, I’m getting nowhere. Accessing property records and cross-checking ownership and sales records is agonizingly slow.
“You think Hutch might know this guy?” I ask Zach.
“If they’ve been on searches together, maybe,” he replies with a shrug. “Call him.”
I dial Hutch’s number and put the call on speaker.
“Hey, I hear Vivian’s back to work today,” Hutch says. “Thanks again for the donut holes. I think you fed the entire Emergency Department.”
“It’s the least I could do,” I say as a renewed surge of gratitude peaks inside me. “Say I’m working on something and could use your help. Zach’s here too.”
“Uh, sure,” he replies.
“I’m sending you a picture.” I tap the share button on Tisdale’s image. “Know this guy? He’s apparently?—”
“This guy?” Hutch answers, all warmth gone from his voice. “What’s he done?”
Zach and I lock eyes. “He might have information,” I say because even though I trust Hutch with my life, in no way can I share details of an active investigation with him.
“He volunteers with search and rescue,” Hutch says. “But I don’t know him.”
“Do you know if he has a cabin up here? ”
“No, never talked to the guy. Ava has though.”
“What?”
“He’s a friend of my mom’s nephew or something. She met him for coffee once.”
“Like for a blind date?”
He huffs a tight breath. “Yeah. It was before I made sure her dating days were over.”
“Do you know who the friend is?” I ask.
“I don’t, sorry.”
With Hutch’s mom gone, the only link we have is Ava.
“I hate to put you on the spot like this,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “But would you be able to ask Ava about it? We could use any details about him that she remembers.”
“I’m picking her up for lunch in a bit. I’ll ask.”
“Thanks, Hutch.”
We end the call, and I jump back to my feet. “This guy goes on blind dates? Unfuckingbelievable.”
“Like Ballard said, he lives a double life. His normal one, and the twisted one.”
The phone rings. It’s Hutch.
“That was fast.”
“It sounded important, so I called Ava. This guy has apparently got a cabin at Bear Mountain.”
“Know which area it’s in?” I pace back to the other side of the conference room. There are two communities up there, one adjacent to the ski area and the other, with newer homes, on the south side of the mountain.
Hutch muffles the phone. “Nope. That’s all Ava remembers.”
“All right. Thanks,” I say.
“Hope it’s useful,” Hutch replies.
We end the call, and I shut my laptop lid and pocket my phone. “You going somewhere?” Zach asks, frowning.
“Yep. Bear Mountain.”
“Should we wait for Ballard?” Zach asks .
“We’ll check in.” There’s a good chance I’m going to regret this, but I’m not wasting another hour pecking away at dead ends. If this guy has a cabin, I’m going to find it right fucking now.
“We?” Zach’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Come on, it’s time we knocked on some doors.”