Chapter 12
TWELVE
Amanda was almost to the road when she heard a vehicle’s wheels crunching on the gravel. She came out to see it was the medical examiner’s van. Hans Rideout was behind the wheel, and his assistant, Liam Baker, was in the front passenger seat.
She and Trent waited while they parked and got out.
“I see you two wasted no time getting here.” Rideout set down his medical case.
“Neither did you, though Trent and I have a vested interest.” She told him the victim was tied to a missing family case they picked up last night.
“He was the husband and father. The mother and daughter are still missing.” She hoped they were still alive but held back saying as much.
For one, she couldn’t trust her emotions to keep her voice steady.
Two, wasn’t desiring a good outcome a given?
“Let’s hope you find them in time.”
“Yeah. So Trent and I are going to talk with the farmer who found the victim, but we’ll be back afterward to get your thoughts.”
“We’ve been warned.” Rideout smiled and winked at her.
Hilarious! She pulled out her phone and stopped next to the passenger door of their car, listening to the line ring.
“Just calling Malone,” she told Trent as she put it on speaker.
She saw the roof of the Manning farmhouse, and it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes to walk there, but it was time she didn’t want to spare.
“So was it Paul Archer?” Malone answered.
He must have seen her name on the caller ID. “Yes.”
There was a brief pocket of silence, then he said, “We knew there was that chance.”
“It’s not good either. Vultures have gotten to the body, who knows what else, and it’s obscuring cause of death.
Rideout’s just arrived, and hopefully he can make something of it.
CSIs have called out the Department of Wildlife Resources to consult on the birds.
They can help with the investigation in a few ways—tracking down any scattered bones and telling us how long the remains have been exposed to scavengers. ”
“Interesting. In all my years, I’ve never had a case involve them.”
“Be thankful for that. Trent and I are going to speak with the man who found Archer. Could you have officers bring in Phillip Daily? I’ll text you his information.”
“You bet I can.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. What’s your ETA back to Central, do you figure?”
“I’ll send you a text when we’re on our way.”
“Sounds good.” With that, Malone hung up.
“I’m taking it you want to drive down there?” Trent nudged his head toward the house. “Either that or you’re using the car for support to remain standing.”
“Both?”
“We’ll get through this. So will Zoe.”
Trent unlocked the car, and they both got in.
As he got them moving down the road toward the farmhouse, she looked over at Trent.
“If Daily’s behind this, the chances are good that Valerie and Brooke are still alive.
He could have killed the husband to get him out of the way.
” She had to cling to the fact they were alive to save, otherwise she’d lose her sanity. To think otherwise was just too much.
“I mean, it’s possible, but why not just take the wife and girl? And that’s assuming he wanted an instant family.”
“Which we won’t know until we talk to him and feel him out. For us to be right about any of this, then it would stand to reason that Valerie had ended things with him, which he didn’t take well.”
“And Detective Briggs said there wasn’t anything he found that indicated their relationship ended.”
“There’s that and who he could have roped into this. We know there’s at least one other person.” There were still questions that needed answers, but one step at a time. They would know more once they spoke with him.
Trent pulled into the long gravel driveway of the farmhouse. Tiger lilies were in full bloom in the garden bed surrounding the house. Their vibrant orange stood out in contrast to the century-old red brick that was washed out from time.
They got out and made for the door, but it was opened before they knocked.
“Shelley Manning, we’re Detectives Steele and Stenson.
” Amanda ran with the assumption she was Rhett’s wife, given her looks and presumed age.
Her hair was silver and pulled back into a loose bun.
Deep-set wrinkles spiked out from her blue eyes, and fine lines were engraved in her cheeks.
“Could we speak with your husband, Rhett?”
Shelley twisted her hands together in obvious discomfort. Her lips also tweaked while her eyes filled with tears. “He’s having a hard time, but yes, come this way.” She stepped back to let them inside.
The house was muggy, but fresh air from outside blew through the opened windows, bringing the pleasant smell of grass but the sour hint of manure.
Amanda and Trent wiped their feet on the mat, a ratted and threadbare patterned fabric. It suited the house and barn. The Mannings hadn’t invested in a makeover inside or out; everything appeared original, including the wood floor that was dull and scratched.
Shelley took them down a hallway with framed generational family photos on the wall.
The Mannings with young children at various ages, including wedding photos of them, and others with new little faces.
They were grandparents and that realization made her feel more empathy for Rhett making such a grisly discovery.
They passed by the kitchen, which was dated, with an old woodstove in the corner. Its black pipe snaked up the wall and vented outside.
“Rhett, detectives are here to speak with you.” Shelley passed through the doorway into the living room.
Dated like the rest of the home, the furniture was faded and frayed.
The floral pattern on the couch was washed out.
The cushioned chairs were decades old, as were the beaten coffee tables.
A flat-screen television on a stand was the only modern touch in the room.
Another woodstove took up residence against an exterior wall.
Was this house so outdated that fire was the principal heat source?
It could explain the absence of central air and the oscillating fan in the corner.
A gray-haired man was sitting in a rocking chair next to a window that overlooked the front lawn to the road. His gaze had a faraway look that mirrored those with dementia or Alzheimer’s. She imagined Rhett was wishing he’d never made the discovery he had.
Rhett turned to face them, and said nothing.
“Detectives Steele and Stenson,” she said and added, “Amanda and Trent.”
Shelley met Amanda’s gaze, a softness passing between them. The woman picked up on the kindness in Amanda offering their given names. “Sit wherever you would like,” Shelley told them. “Rhett, you going to be all right, dear? Would you like another tea?”
He shook his head and blinked slowly.
“Could I get either of you a tea or water?” Shelley asked Amanda and Trent.
“Not for me, but thank you, ma’am,” Trent told her.
“I’m fine too. If you like, you could join us.” Amanda had a reason for asking. Her presence might have a stabilizing effect on her husband. Jensen hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d mentioned this guy was taking this hard. Though who could blame him?
Shelley sat on one end of the floral couch next to a table with a glass half full of water.
Amanda and Trent each sat in a chair, and Trent took out his notepad. He was often the notetaker between them and alternated being old-school and using a department-issued tablet for making his notations. His choice complemented their surroundings.
“We’re very sorry you had that experience, Mr. Manning,” Amanda began, and it drew his gaze to hers.
“The most horrible thing I’ve seen in all my years, and that’s saying a lot.”
I bet… Though she had no basis for making that determination. She didn’t know the man, but from his statement, he must have seen horrible things. “We just wanted to get an idea of how you came to find him. Could you tell us?”
“As I told Officer Jensen, I saw the birds. Circling, ya know.” Rhett lassoed a finger as if to further his point.
“When that happens, it’s nothing good. But I just expected that a deer or some other animal had died in the field.
I never expected…” His eyes blanked over again like they had been when they first walked into the room.
“There’s no reason you would have.” In no way did Amanda view the elderly man in front of her as being involved in any of this.
Even though she knew one couldn’t judge from appearances, she felt confident in trusting her impressions here.
And why would any killer dispose of a body on their own property?
To draw their culpability into question…
The answer fired back at her, but she dismissed it.
“We just have a few other questions we need to ask you. It shouldn’t take long.
Did you touch anything in the area surrounding the body? Or the body itself?”
“Absolutely not. I just headed out to where the birds were hovering. Saw the mess and called nine-one-one as fast as I could get my fingers to work.”
“The man’s name was Paul Archer, resident of Dumfries. Does the name sound familiar to you?” Trent asked.
“Dumfries? What in the blazes is he doing out here?” His face became a knot of irritation and confusion.
“We’re trying to figure that out,” she told him while Trent wrote in his notepad. Whatever he recorded was brief, and he was looking up mere seconds after sinking his head down.
She imagined he’d documented something along the lines of, person who found the body to be treated as a witness only, not suspicious.
Or she was projecting her own impression.
The man was devastated and in obvious shock.
She felt for what he’d suffer once the adrenaline retreated and the full impact of his experience sank in with harsh clarity.
“When was the last time you were in that section of field?”
“Back at the start of the season. Otherwise, there’s no reason for me to walk through the thing.”
That meant that Paul’s body could have been there since Saturday, assuming he was taken the same day as his wife and daughter.
If so, had he also been killed and disposed of all in one day?
And if that was the case, why bother taking him at all?
Then again, it was possible the birds got to his remains quickly, and he hadn’t been out there rotting that long.
There was no way to say when Paul was killed or put in that field. They’d need to wait for those answers.
“We have thirty-five acres, Detective,” Shelley inserted. “There’s no way Rhett or I can be on top of it all the time.”
“Understandable,” Amanda said while watching Trent’s pen move along the page again. “Do you employ anyone to help you out? Maybe your children pitch in.”
Shelley shook her head. “No money to hire people. As for our son and daughter, they have lives and families of their own, Detective. Busy making their way in the world. We wouldn’t want to impose caring for the farm on them.”
“Did you notice anyone in the area you haven’t seen before?” She recognized the reach of the question. It wasn’t like a residential neighborhood in a town, where it was easier to note such things. To decrease the odds, the field where Paul had been found was a distance down the road.
Rhett turned to look out the window again. It was as if he were seeking a temporary reprieve to protect himself mentally and emotionally.
“No, but it’s not like we would. It’s rather quiet around here.” Shelley spoke up when her husband remained silent.
Amanda nodded. Again, she understood. And those who had dumped Paul’s body would have done so during the night, when there would be even less chance of being spotted.
She stood and handed her business card to Shelley.
“If either of you think of anything else, call me. The Prince William County Police Department also offers a service for victims. If you’d like to speak with counselors about what you’re going through—”
“No,” Rhett pushed out with force. “I’m not talking to any quack. I’ll get through this on my own.”
“Rhett,” Shelley reprimanded her husband, her cheeks flushing a bright red. “We don’t call them that anymore.” To Amanda and Trent, she added, “Please excuse him. He can come across offensive sometimes. He’s just from a different time.”
“No worries, but if he changes his mind…” Amanda nudged her head toward her card in the wife’s hand. A silent acknowledgment passed between them.
Rhett’s gaze was fixed out the window as Amanda and Trent saw themselves out of the room.
Back in the car, Trent said, “That was hard to witness.”
“He’s got a rough time ahead of him.” How our day looks…