Serial Obsession

CHAPTER One

Camille Hargrove would soon have her beat-up, old Ford Explorer maxed out trying to reach her appointment on time.

When she’d met Terry Biggs a few days prior, she knew right away he had information that could break a cold case wide open.

She certainly didn’t want to blow her chance at such a rare opportunity, but she also hated leaving her mom and dad shorthanded at the family brewery near Cobden, IL.

Camille had three hundred miles between her and possibly the biggest break she’d ever get, but that didn’t make leaving any easier.

“Milly, start cleaning up the kitchen before the second rush.”

“Dad, I have to go. I told you I could only work until two o’clock today.

I have an interview with an informant four hours away.

I’m running late the way it is,” Camille replied.

She hoped her tone was just sharp enough to make her point.

She didn’t have time to run through her dad’s usual drawn- out attempts to keep her home and working at the brewery a little longer.

Dan Hargrove knew his daughter wanted to leave early, but as usual, his meager attempt to guilt her into staying home failed. Deep down, he knew he was fooling himself. Camille was a serious investigator, dedicated to the cold cases she took on.

Over the past few years, she had solved several cases others had tossed aside, and Dan could see that familiar fire glowing in her eyes once again.

This case was something huge, and before he knew it, his daughter would be up and gone.

So, Dan did what he always did right before his daughter took off on a case; he listened to the excitement in Camille’s voice and turned his sadness into pride.

“It’s a cold case. A big one, but I can’t go into it right now.”

Camille untied her apron and hung it on the hook, feeling the sting of that familiar silence that always accompanied her departures.

She knew her parents worried about her, and she knew that every time she left, there was so much she couldn’t explain.

Behind the worried looks and tears, Camille hoped her parents understood her passion and her absolute need to catch these criminals and make sure justice was served.

But once again, she found herself trapped by guilt, making leaving harder than it had to be.

“I need this, Dad.”

Camille never explained the details of her work, but Dan Hargrove could tell his daughter had an incredible passion for this case.

Dan was lucky that his daughter had given up her full-time job as a reporter to help out at the family business.

They agreed that she would occasionally take on a cold case, and when she did, he would have to be flexible with her hours.

He was proud of his daughter’s accomplishments as an investigator, which softened his displeasure.

But her absence at Brew4U would make the rest of the afternoon a living hell.

“Alright, but be careful. I worry about you in that old Explorer. Why don’t you just get a new one?”

This was a popular argument for Dan and his daughter, but Camille loved her car and always responded the same way.

“Dad, it’s fine. I don’t need a new one,” she said, smiling. Somehow, she never got away on a case without her dad mentioning she needed a new car. “You know I’d go with you to buy one, right?”

“Yes, I know, Dad.” Camille smiled and rolled her eyes at the same time.

It was the same conversation every time she left.

“And call your mama when you get there,” Dan added. “How long will you be gone?”

“You know I can’t put a time frame on it, Dad. I’ll keep in touch. I have Lisa filling in for me here until I get back. I just texted her to remind her. She should be here any minute. I can’t wait, though,” Camille said, kissing his cheek and grabbing her purse.

“Alright, love you!” Dan Hargrove’s voice was soft, and he couldn’t hide his sadness.

But just like that, Camille was off once again to bring closure to a family whose loved one was murdered, but their case went cold.

From her experiences on the job, Camille knew that an unsolved murder combined with a wrongly accused perpetrator was the worst of all situations: injustice for all.

Therefore, she would try her hand at uncovering the evidence that had somehow eluded the authorities thus far.

Camille Hargrove was a damn good investigator, and the people she helped were lucky to have her.

Now she was trying to make up time for getting a late start, and her mind was running through all the questions she had for Terry Biggs.

Camille had met Terry at a wedding reception in Jeff City the weekend before.

For an investigator like Camille, a chance meeting with a person who claimed to have new details about one of the highest-profile cases in the Lake Ozark area was a life-changing opportunity.

And even if Terry Biggs ended up being a crackpot, Camille would be stupid not to run this one down.

As she pulled onto S. Maple Street in Eldon, Missouri, she glanced at the time.

“Shit!”

It was 6:15. She was fifteen minutes late. Unfortunately, informants didn’t usually stick around after the meeting time had passed.

“Damn it!” she said out loud, knowing there was a good chance Mr. Biggs was long gone.

Their meeting place, Whittle’s Pub and Grub, was right in the middle of the block, and as she got closer, she saw Terry Biggs exiting the front door, stopping to light a cigarette, and then resuming his leisurely exit.

“Mr. Biggs! Mr. Biggs! I’m sorry I’m late!” she yelled out the window, startling him. “Please stop. I came all the way from Southern Illinois. Please!”

Camille was begging, and the desperation in her voice must have hit Biggs just right because he stopped, took a long draw from his cigarette, and waited for Camille to park.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Biggs. I’m so sorry I’m late. I’m so relieved you’re still here.”

Biggs grunted an indistinguishable reply, and they both headed into the bar, choosing to sit at the far end, away from watchful eyes and big ears. Camille laid some cash on the bar and ordered them both a beer.

“So, you were saying last weekend that you have new information in the Kelcee Meyer case.” Camille wasn’t wasting any time with small talk.

Biggs took a long drink from his Budweiser bottle, set it on the bar, and began his story.

“I’m the road commissioner for Eldon and some surrounding areas.

One night, early last spring, I was spraying the ditches for mosquitoes.

We had so much rain and standing water that I wanted to get a jump on it.

I don’t usually work that late, but me and the old lady had a fight, and I just needed to cool down, so I thought I’d spray those ditches instead of coming in here and tying one on. ”

He paused to take another long drink as if avoiding what came next.

“When I turned on Snakepit Road, I saw a red truck, a king cab with its lights on. I just continued doing my job, thinkin’ some guy was out poking into someone’s old lady and they’d hightail it out of there soon.

I had my truck pretty far down into the ditch, going pretty slow, so I guess he didn’t see me—right then, anyway. ”

Biggs motioned for the bartender to grab him another beer and waited to resume his story until he had the bottle firmly in his hand.

“And then I saw …”

Camille could tell Biggs was visibly shaken. She remained silent, letting him take his time, but she was on the edge of her seat with anticipation.

“As I got a little closer, I saw a man swinging some kind of weapon up in the air and striking it down, really hard, and then again, and again.”

“What was he hitting?” Camille asked, even though she had a pretty good idea.

“Something … or someone on the ground by his truck. I couldn’t see because the truck was in the way.

And then I saw nothing. The weeds and brush in the ditches were so thick already so early in the season.

Finally, I saw the man coming back from the field to get in his truck, and that’s when he saw me.

He got in really fast and took off like lightning. ”

“Mr. Biggs, did you go out in the field to see what he might have been doing there?”

An awkward silence hung in the air like a dense fog.

“No,” he answered regretfully. “But it wasn’t until the story about the Meyer girl came out that I put two and two together. At the time, I had no idea that the bastard was up to something like that. You just don’t think such awful things are so close.”

“Why haven’t you gone to the police before now?”

Biggs had often wondered the same thing, but the best he could answer was to say that by the time he realized what he saw could have been Kelcee’s murder, they had a suspect, and it looked like a slam dunk.

Biggs hoped all along that the case would get solved without him having to come forward, and that’s how it all seemed to play out—initially.

“They had already arrested that Paine guy, and I really didn’t want to be involved.”

“But Ross Paine was released on a technicality,” Camille said questioningly.

“Look, lady, I know, alright?” Biggs was annoyed and defensive.

“I should have gone forward. I’m an asshole.

I get it! I should have spoken out about the red truck before the whole town made Paine out to be a monster.

But I didn’t. I feel bad that he had to take off to avoid all the shit people were givin’ him.

Probably, I could have stopped some of that with the red truck story, but I didn’t. And that’s on me!”

Camille could tell Biggs was getting agitated, not only with her questions but also at his own negligence.

“So why are you telling me all of this now? Why not the police?”

“It seems to me the whole town gave up trying to find the real killer since they had it in their minds it was Paine. I’m afraid the police are just as bad.

If I take this information to them, they’ll think I’m lying since I didn’t come forward earlier.

And most of all, I want justice for that girl.

I want someone who gives a damn to use what I know to find the real monster responsible.

When I heard you saying that you investigate cold cases at that wedding last week, I thought you would be a little more thorough in running down the truth since the police still think it’s Paine. ”

“And how can you be so sure it wasn’t Paine?” Camille asked, already knowing the answer, hoping Biggs would be straight with her.

“Paine doesn’t own a red king cab.”

Camille looked at Terry Biggs and saw a man who desperately needed her help. And this after-the-fact disclosure was not just to ease his mind. Camille could tell Biggs wanted justice for Kelcee Meyer and peace for her family.

“Tell me more about the truck and the man. Did you get a plate number? Anything?”

“I wasn’t that close, but the truck was loud.”

“What did the man look like?”

“Tall, big, built like a brick wall. Not fat, but solid, muscular. He wore a hat, but I could tell his hair was kinda long.”

After some thoughtful silence, Biggs confessed that was it. That was all he could remember, and then his initial worry consumed him. “You don’t have to tell where you got this information, do you?”

“I can keep you anonymous, but if the authorities eventually need your statement to solve this case, I hope you’d provide it,” Camille answered, easing his mind a little.

“Okay, if it comes to that,” Biggs agreed.

“Great, thanks again. I’m getting to work on this right away. You said Ross Paine took off? Does anyone know where he went?”

“Word is he’s out in the woods somewhere over by the state park. I saw him this summer on Locklan’s Point. That’s a pretty remote area. There’s an abandoned cabin out there. I bet that’s where he’s living.”

“Can I get there by car?”

“Yeah, turn on Tunnel Road right off of old 54. Go about a mile, and there will be a lake road off to the left. It’s pretty steep, and it’s rocky. Go slow. The cabin is at the very bottom of the hill by the lake.”

Biggs took the last swig of his beer and wrapped up their meeting.

“If you find out anything good, let me know.”

“I will. And thanks.”

Camille watched as Terry Biggs walked out of the bar. She knew how hard it was for some people to get involved in high-stakes murder cases, and she admired him. She just hoped that his information didn’t come a little too late.