Chapter 24 #2
“The two gunshots in the head are what killed him,” said Dr. Lockhart. “And I believe he’d been dead for approximately forty-eight hours when he was discovered.”
“So he was killed on Sunday?”
“Most likely. And the restraints on his wrists and ankles left the same pattern in his flesh that I saw on this morning’s victim, Michael Munoz.
Chisholm was tied up with a half-inch white nylon rope.
The type you could find at any hardware or home store.
I found a few small pieces of white nylon fiber on Munoz’s ankles.
Visually it’s a match to the rope from Chisholm, but I’ll wait for the lab to confirm. ”
“I wonder why Munoz had the ropes removed before they dumped the body,” mused Max.
“I don’t have an answer for you,” said the medical examiner. “Possibly it was easier for them to quickly move Chisholm’s body with the extremities bound?”
Max tried to imagine moving the dead body to the judge’s trunk without being seen.
It had to be more than one person.
Where did they do that?
“Do you have the bullets?”
“One of them. The other exited the skull, so it’s possibly still at the murder site. Almost the exact same thing happened with Mr. Munoz. I only recovered one of those bullets too. I sent both bullets to the state lab for comparison and asked for a rush.”
“Both men received two shots to the skull? At close range?” Max was more and more convinced that the killings were related. Even if the bullets hadn’t been fired from the same gun, the methods had been identical, along with the ankle and wrist restraints.
“That’s correct. The primary difference between the two men’s injuries so far is that Mr. Chisholm wasn’t beaten before his death. Mr. Munoz was battered severely.”
“I’ll call the state lab and emphasize your rush,” Max told her. “Everyone asks for a rush, but maybe coming from the FBI, it’ll get pushed to the top.”
“These two men were executed in the same manner,” said Dr. Lockhart. “Bullets from the same weapon would be the final nail in the coffin—so to speak.”
“Have you looked at Rachel Johnson yet?” asked Max.
“I haven’t started, but I’m aware she has a similar head injury.” She paused. “You think these three deaths are related.”
“It’s possible.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I finish,” said Dr. Lockhart.
Max ended the call, texted Chisholm’s name to Darby, and then stood for a long moment, looking at the giant play structure in the judge’s backyard, easily picturing the twins climbing all over it, each pretending to be Spider-Man.
Is this family in danger?
Two bullets at close range in each man’s head. Dr. Lockhart was correct to call the killings executions.
Do these deaths tie into the domestic terrorism chatter?
He’d suspected the car bombing was related to the terrorism threats, but now he wasn’t so certain. Something felt very personal about the killings.
He needed to find a common thread in the victims’ backgrounds or activities.
Max went back inside the house, where the judge hadn’t moved from his seat. He appeared drained. More so than when Max had first arrived. “Does the name Eli Chisholm mean anything to you?” Max asked him.
He thought for a long moment. “No. Why?”
“That’s who was in your trunk. He had a record. I need to know if he went through your courtroom.”
“Give me a minute.” The judge stood and grabbed a laptop that had been sitting on the kitchen island. He set it on the table and started typing, intently focused on the screen.
Tamara returned, her footsteps nearly silent.
“The twins should be occupied for at least the next twenty minutes,” she said.
“Then hopefully there is a smooth transition to Jett being Spider-Man for the next twenty. Marshal Simpson offered to supervise.” She smiled at Max, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“I admit it’s odd to have strangers in the house, but I do feel safer. ”
Her husband put his arm around her shoulders as she sat next to him and pressed a kiss against her temple. “We’ll be okay,” he told her.
“I’m definitely rattled,” she told Max. “And I’m terrified for Howard. I’m glad he won’t be going back to work for a while. Possibly never again, if I have my way.”
She’s serious.
“Once they figure out who did this, I’ll be safe,” her husband said.
“Until the next asshole,” snapped Tamara. “You don’t need to keep doing this job. Any private practice would hire you.”
“Tamara.” The judge shook his head, and Max sensed this was a conversation that had frequently taken place during the last twenty-four hours.
“We’ve got boys. Young boys,” she whispered.
“We’ll be getting out of town for a bit,” the judge told Max. “That will help.”
“Three days is not enough, and that place is too close to town,” said Tamara. “We need to take a few weeks out of state.”
Max didn’t disagree. “Where will you be?”
“Ferrandis’s cabin. Huge place about an hour outside of town. Nothing to see but pines and the river. No internet.”
Max knew the name but couldn’t place it. “Friend of yours?”
“That’s right. You’re new to the area,” said the judge. “Julie Ferrandis is the DA, and she invited us and some other friends up there for a few days. It’s good timing.” He looked at Tamara for support.
She didn’t give it. “I don’t feel like being social at the moment.” She looked at Max. “And frankly, the lack of internet just puts more on me to entertain the kids.”
“Might be a good distraction,” he suggested.
“Maybe.” She clearly didn’t agree. “Two weeks in Cancún with internet sounds more relaxing.”
“Do you know a man named Eli Chisholm?” Max asked her.
“Is that who set off the bomb?”
“No. He was in the trunk.”
She looked away, fighting a small shudder that made her chin quiver. “I don’t know the name.”
“The man was never in my courtroom,” said the judge, looking back at his computer screen. “I don’t have anyone with that last name.” He glanced up. “Now what?”
“We’re already digging into his background,” said Max.
He picked up the judge’s list of names, wondering if Eli Chisholm was tied to any of them.
He didn’t need to ask Darby to check. He knew enough about the data analyst’s habits to know she was already trying to find a connection between them and Chisholm.
“Do either of you have anything more for me?” asked Max. He looked at Tamara. “I didn’t ask if you’ve had threats or problems with anyone.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “This can’t be about me. They targeted his car.”
“True. But you’re part of his family. Anything odd happen lately? Like an unusual encounter in a store? Maybe a restaurant? Something that simply felt off to you.”
She looked down as she thought, tilting her head to one side, running one finger along the rough edge of the table. “Not that I can think of.”
Max set his card on the table. “Call me if you do. I hope your time out of town is helpful.” He made his way down the long glass hallway. No one was at the door, so he let himself out.
As he drove away from the house, he raised a hand at the deputy at the end of the long driveway before heading back to his office.
Eli Chisholm. Michael Munoz. Rachel Johnson.
Time to find a connection.