Chapter Five #2
He realized he was leaning toward believing the eyewitness.
Jack Marshall had a pretty tight alibi, though.
He would have had to set it all up long before the murder.
He’d apparently gotten the woman to the construction site and killed her, using the plastic available to leave no evidence of the crime.
But wasn’t he in Great Falls at the time?
And how had he gotten rid of the body so quickly?
Russ felt a shock as a thought struck him like a horseshoe upside the head.
The killer had left no evidence of the crime behind, except for the missing sheets of plastic from the room where Amy Sue said she’d seen him kill the woman.
Russ had no doubt that the plastic had been on the floor and doorways the night Amy Sue had seen the murder—no matter what the contractor said. But again, he had no proof.
But what had come to him was how perfect it was to kill the woman at a construction site at night where there’d been a lot of excavation. It was the perfect place to bury a body quickly.
All Russ needed was a cadaver dog to search the area.
He stood up and walked to the chief’s office and tapped on his door. A gruff “Come in” was emitted from the other side. Opening the door, Russ stepped in.
The chief, Milton “Milt” Westmoreland had the face of an overweight bulldog and was known for his bite as well as his bark. “What now, Tate?”
“I’m going to need a cadaver dog,” he said, adding, “Sir,” a little late. “I want to search that construction site where the woman saw the murder. It’s the perfect place to get rid of a body quickly.”
“There was no murder,” the chief said through gritted teeth.
“Maybe,” Russ said. “Or maybe not, sir. But don’t you think it’s worth at least seeing what we find? If I don’t find a body or any evidence at the site, then I won’t mention it again.”
“You won’t mention it again because I’m telling you not to.
I won’t have you out there looking for a body, wasting taxpayers’ money and my time, let alone calling even more attention to this.
I’m warning you, Tate. Drop it. You are treading on thin ice as it is.
I don’t want to hear another word about this.
I especially don’t want to hear the name Jack Marshall for any reason.
Am I making myself clear enough for you? ”
Russ stood for a moment, wanting to argue but seeing it wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He’d have to come at this from another direction. “Yes, sir.” With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him but not before hearing the chief swearing up a storm in his wake.
He was going to have to wait until the body turned up. Or someone reported a woman missing. Neither had happened yet. Maybe he’d find a connection between the dead woman and Jack Marshall—if only he had a name.
If Amy Sue was right about all of it, then the man had known exactly what he was doing and had covered his tracks well.
What nagged at Russ was that if Marshall had pulled off the perfect murder, Amy Sue wouldn’t have accidentally been at the scene that night and witnessed it.
No one would have known there was even a murder, and Jack Marshall would have never been accused—if not for Amy Sue accidentally being there.
It always came back to the same thing. If Amy Sue told the truth and saw what she believed she had, then Jack Marshall had made a mistake by killing the woman in what should have been the perfect place.
And if so, maybe he had made another mistake, one he hadn’t realized yet? One Russ hadn’t discovered yet.
He couldn’t give up, even knowing what it could cost him if he continued to pursue this.
Amy Sue found the tracks where Jack Marshall had driven into the back road to the ranch house. Because of the rain the night before, it was easy to follow the tire tracks. She hadn’t gone far before she saw where he had turned onto the side road that led to the back of the house.
Her heart began to pound harder as she followed his trail, knowing where he’d gone even before she’d seen the spot where he’d pulled over and gotten out.
From where he’d parked, she could see the roofline of the farmhouse and wasn’t surprised that his footprints had headed in that direction.
Her blood thundered in her ears as she opened her door and stepped out.
Avoiding his footprints, she walked alongside them to the outcropping of rocks on the hillside where he would have hidden, but had a clear view into her house.
She shuddered at the thought of him watching her through the curtainless windows.
They lived in the country, miles from another house.
They had no reason to close the curtains even at night.
Knowing he had spied on her felt more dangerous than him pretending to shoot her.
She felt violated just thinking of him watching her where she’d been standing in the kitchen earlier.
This wouldn’t be the first time a killer had come to the ranch looking for her, she thought as she pulled out her phone and took photographs of his tracks in the earth.
But this time she knew the man was a killer—just as she knew that if she didn’t stop him, it might be only a matter of time before he came back for her.