Chapter 11
Early morning is the best time of day. Everything is fresh and dewy and ready to go. Even if coffee is the fuel of humans, for morning people dawn is the kindling and anticipation is the match. Those who stay up late and sleep through the awakening of the day never get to know the splendid promise that each dawn holds, whether blue-skied or cloudy. This is why night owls hate morning people: they are so perky and excited and ready to go.
Jim Burch was one of those morning people. He was a hard, deep sleeper, rarely remembered his dreams, and always woke promptly at 5:00 a.m., clear-headed and refreshed. This was not one of those mornings. He had gone home the night before, tossed back a shot of quality bourbon, neat, and fallen into bed at 10:00 p.m. He dreamed on and off all night, with Rory chasing dogs and rabbits and cats with frogs nipping at his heels. He remembered his nightmares vividly and wanted nothing more than to knock back some more bourbon, enough to send him deep into slumber, and stay in bed until it all went away. Of course, he also knew this was nonsense. And there was work to do.
"Dammit, Beth," he said out loud as he showered. "This was supposed to be my quiet place, my solace. It’s mornings like these, ones I thought I’d never have again, that I miss you the most."
He leaned against the shower wall, letting the hot water wash the ache from his joints, and cried until there were no more tears to shed. He hadn’t cried like this for Beth in two years, but today he ached from the absence of her.
"Are you happy where you are?" he asked, as he put on his work clothes and slid his feet into his heavy boots. "Are you anywhere? Or did you just stop?"
This was a conversation he had nearly every morning. He thoroughly expected someday to get an answer, though by what means he wasn’t certain. But he just couldn’t bring himself to accept that Beth wasn’t somewhere waiting for him. He knew it was wishful thinking, but it kept him going each day. He wasn’t sure why it felt so real that day nor why he had completely lost it in the shower.
He finished dressing and locked the door on his way out. He walked the two blocks to the Rectory, since he figured he would have a lot of standing and sitting to do today. This might be his only chance to stretch out. Breakfast arrived just as he got through the front door. Arthur had set the long table in the front dining room with china plates, cloth napkins, large mugs for coffee, and pitchers of orange juice. Morey and Jen had brought enough food to feed a small army, and Deputy Randle was helping set things up, while constantly sipping from his mug of coffee. His eyes were drooping.
"Who’s watching the crime scene?" demanded Jim.
"A couple of state fellas drove in about an hour ago," said Harry. "They had IDs and all the diving equipment. I was glad to get out of there. Damn quacking like to drive me nuts, but at least it kept me awake. Can I go now and get some sleep?"
"Sure," said Jim. "But before you go, where was the quacking coming from?"
"Not entirely sure. Sometimes it sounded like out in the middle of the pool, but when I shone my flashlight there wasn’t anything there. Other times, it sounded like it was on the other side of the river. Of course, that wouldn’t be possible to hear, seeing how it’s about forty, maybe fifty yards across. And once, scared the life out of me. Damn thing sounded like it was right behind me in the parking area. And then there was the singing."
"Singing?" asked Jim, incredulously.
"Yah. I figured I was hallucinating by then, I was so damn tired. Might have been some young’uns at the turnout down river. Beautiful voice though. Just heard it once."
"You’d better get some sleep. You’re going soft in the head," said Jim.
Harry left, but not before snagging one of the giant warm cinnamon rolls Maggie had just set out on the table.
The others straggled in, taking a seat at the long table.
"Holy cow, those must be the biggest cinnamon rolls I’ve ever seen," said Helen, grabbing one for herself. She also dug into the fluffy scrambled eggs and heaped her plate with bacon.
Meadows eyeballed Zak, who had arrived promptly at 6:30 a.m. The CSIs had taken possession of his boots before he left the night before, and he now wore running shoes. He looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.
"Now," said Meadows. "What’s this I heard about missing pets?"
Zak took a long sip of coffee and snared one of the cinnamon rolls. He shook his head at Arthur’s offer of eggs. He sighed deeply, and then began to speak.
"About a week after the mill turned on the restored water wheel, people started losing pets up on Jackson Hill. The Millers lost both their cats. Like to break their kids’ hearts. They had signs up and everything. Gene Herbst and his partner, Lloyd, had two of those big German shepherd dogs—Malinois, I think they’re called. They just disappeared one day, right out of their backyard. And Elsie Mix lost her four pet rabbits from her back yard,. This was about a month ago."
Zak paused, staring at them all.
"What I’m about to tell you, I don’t want it to get back to Grossman and his pals that it was me who told you. I need that job. I have two young ones and another on the way."
"Don’t you worry, son," said Jim. "Unless it’s needed in a court of law, what you say for now stays right here."
"All those people – the Millers, Gene and Lloyd, and Elsie – they had wells, old wells in their backyards that had pumps on them. They used the pumps to water their yards, their flower gardens, and such. The mill owns the properties. We pay rent to them. It’s quite reasonable and part of our pay package. Anyway, they came in and closed those wells—put metal caps over them and told folks they would have to use city water for their gardens. There are lots of other people up there with pets, but only the ones with those closed up wells lost theirs."
He stared at his feet for a few moments.
"I’m scared," he said softly. "We have one of those wells in our backyard, and Mollie—that’s my wife—thinks I’m being silly. But I won’t let my boys play back there anymore. I have Mollie take them to the park over by the library."
He paused and looked as if he might cry.
"I worry every day that Mollie will decide I’m being a nervous Nellie and let the kids out back. Or the kids will wake up during the night and wander out there. You know how kids are."
"I take it you haven’t been sleeping much," said Arthur.
Jim realized this explained the young man’s apparently ill appearance.
"No sir, and neither would you if you’d heard what I did," he blurted out.
Everyone in the room was paying full attention now.
"Just what did you hear?" asked Meadows.
"It was shortly after the water wheel started up. I was out one night, looking at the stars. Suddenly I heard what sounded like a tapping or knocking. It was coming from the well. I let out a holler, thinking maybe someone got stuck down there, but there was no answer. So I figured I was wrong about where it came from. But then the knocking got louder, almost like banging. So I went over to see if I could spot anything. As I got closer I heard a—don’t know—like a chuckle. Only there wasn’t anything funny about it. Made my hair stand on end."
Zak was pale and shaking, and Jim shoved the plate with his cinnamon roll in front of him.
"Eat!" he instructed, and Zak took a bite or two. He swallowed, then resumed his story.
"I got Mollie out of bed and brought her out there. And of course by then there was no noise at all. She accused me of drinking one too many beers and went back to bed. I stayed and listened for a while longer. When I didn’t hear anything more I went to bed too."
He took another bite of roll.
"But then, right after the pets started going missing, one night I was out in my yard—this was when Lloyd and Gene lost Buster and Beepers. I could hear them calling for their dogs, and then I heard howling and yelping from my well. And then I heard screaming. If you’ve never heard a dog screaming, count yourself lucky. It was bad. And suddenly it stopped. I heard the guys still calling for their dogs, but I couldn’t bring myself to go tell them what I’d heard. Instead I went to bed, praying I was wrong and that the dogs had just wandered off. But they never came back, and now I’m just—I don’t know. If they were down there, considering what I heard, there’s no way they would have come out alive. But I feel guilty anyway."
He put his face in his hands for a moment, and then sat up straight.
"What the hell is going on?"
"That’s what we’re here to find out," responded Meadows. "First, let’s get a good breakfast under our belts. I know you don’t feel much like eating, son, but it’s going to be a long day for all of us. Try to eat as much as you can."
Zak accepted a plate with hash browns, scrambled eggs, and two slices of bacon. Surprised, he discovered that he was quite hungry and easily managed to eat it all. He took a cinnamon roll, wrapped it in a paper napkin, and tucked it away in his jacket pocket for later.
For a while, everyone was silent, wolfing down the wonderful spread prepared by Morey and Maggie. Too soon, it was time to saddle up and get to work. Their first destination would be Big Bass Pool, to be certain they hadn’t missed anything yesterday. There they planned to meet up with the state divers. The two CSIs in the van had called in earlier to announce the arrival of three divers and two more CSIs. Jim called over to Morey’s to see if there were any more cinnamon rolls. Jen appeared soon thereafter with three large thermoses of coffee and Styrofoam cups, along with three large containers full of cinnamon rolls. Immediately after her came Morey carrying a big metal box which, when he opened it, revealed a large quantity of fried chicken. He loaded it into the back of the Explorer, along with china plates, silverware, and a tub of potato salad, all carried over by Jen’s daughter, Bridgette. Jim had learned by now never to question how this family seemed to know exactly what was needed without asking. Apparently, Meadows and Murdoch were of the same opinion. The three CSIs looked startled but didn’t comment.
It was a long day. Three divers had arrived early that morning. They were ready to go in and insisted on starting at Big Bass Pool. When they slipped into the river, they were startled by the force of the current once they got out beyond the pool. One of them swam back and grabbed an underwater scooter from the back of the van. He once again slipped into the swift flowing river and turned on the bright lights on the scooter. The other two divers took either side of the river, and the three worked their way downstream, searching for clothing, body parts, or anything else of interest. While the current was swift, the Martins’ Way was only about fifteen feet deep from Big Bass to where it re-joined the Mississippi, approximately two and a half miles south. At its widest, it was about ten yards, narrowing down to about twenty feet as it turned east toward the Mississippi. The divers made two passes, one down and a more difficult one back up to Big Bass Pool, but found nothing of interest. They did note at least four different points along their way that appeared to be underground channels leading westward from the river. However, a test of the currents showed very little if any movement of the water in these channels.
When the three emerged from the river, they engaged in a long and heated discussion with Meadows and Murdoch. The latter two wanted the divers to go back with the fiber optic camera, but the divers were insistent that a search downward from the wells would be more productive. One of them, Jerry Barton, had grown up in this area and was familiar with the underground waterways that crisscrossed the region. He was certain that examination of the wells and the river north of Big Bass Pool would be by far the best use of their time and resources. The divers won the argument. With Jerry at the wheel, they drove out in the van, searching for wells. They started at the textile mill, north of town, and carefully examined the waterwheel. Nothing had caught on the paddles or on the shore. After a quick examination of the river at that point, Jerry decided they should do a pass down the river to Big Bass Pool and back up to the mill, just to be thorough. They called Meadows and informed him of their plans. It was Meadows who suggested that the others search for wells in the area and mark their locations for the divers to search with their fiber optic camera.
But Meadows planned to stop at Jenkins' Farm and run the camera down that well first. He quickly filled in Jerry about Rory having last been seen at the pump house and told him if they found anything they would call the divers immediately. Jerry asked him to call either way.
Jim, Zak, Meadows, and Murdoch all drove up to the Jenkins' Farm. Helen Green and her two partners were at Big Bass Pool, searching in full daylight in case anything had been missed the night before. The other two CSIs who had ridden up with the divers also stayed at Big Bass, on the off chance that fresh eyes might spot something missed earlier.
The pump house was locked just as Jim had left it. He fished the key out of his pocket and opened the doors. In the dim light inside they could barely make out the metal disk lying beside the open well. Jim could have sworn he left that disk mostly covering the opening. He began searching through the photos on his phone. Helen stopped them from entering while she and Bill took multiple pictures of Rory’s half eaten lunch and the scuff marks that led toward the well opening. Once they were satisfied that they had photographed and mapped the area, Jim and Meadows began feeding the fiber optic camera down into the water. After an hour of searching, watching, and retracing the well area and into the waterway below, they all agreed there was nothing to be found. Jim told them how he had left the cover over the well and showed them the pictures on his cell phone. They were all perplexed. Helen compared his pictures to the present state of the dirt leading up to and around the opening, and there was no apparent change beyond the tracks the two men left on the far side when the fed in the camera.
"Guess it’s time to start searching the other wells," said Helen. "How many do you suppose there are?"
Zak piped up. "The mill has records. They mapped all the underground waterways and marked all the wells. It is being transferred to a large map that will be at the front when you first enter the mill, once it is opened to the public."
"Then let’s get up there and get those maps," said Whiteman. "The sooner we get on this, the sooner we’ll have some answers."
The senior manager of the mill restoration project was reluctant at first to provide the maps and well locations without a warrant. However, when the situation was explained, and he was assured by both Meadows and Murdoch that the mill had no culpability in Rory’s unfortunate demise, he agreed to call Saul Grossman and ask for permission to give them access to the mill’s records, both on-line and hard copy.
Jim looked around while they waited. He had never been to the mill before, and his first impression was how big it was. The portion they were in was a one-story lobby of sorts. Men were constructing display cabinets, while others replaced worn or damaged woodwork. Jim could see through the windows to the main floor where the now silent looms stood waiting to be once again powered. The area was at least two if not two and half stories high, with catwalks over the looms, just barely above their tops. He promised himself to return later when operations had resumed and have Bull show him around.
Grossman finally called and gave permission for the group to examine the maps and geologic surveys. Zak promised to keep tabs on the materials and make sure they were returned in good condition. The team spent the rest of the day mapping out the wells, designating which team would go where. They had three fiber optic cameras and thus were able to designate three teams. They all decided it would be best to get some rest, organize what little evidence they had found, and get an early start the next day.
After a full day of thorough investigation of every well in the area surrounding Harper's Landing, the divers again entered the Martins Way, this time starting at the water wheel that would soon power the textile mill and moving south to Big Bass Pool. However, just ten feet from the waterwheel they encountered a steel mesh grating across the entire river. There they found a torso, mutilated and missing arms, legs, and head. Tattered remnants of clothing clung to the body, including ripped and torn jeans. After taking multiple pictures, the divers brought the remains to the shore, where the CSI team took over. In one of the back pockets of the jeans they found a wallet with a picture ID for Rory O’Connor. They bagged the torso, got Jim as coroner to sign the forms, and the remains were sent with the CSI van to the State Medical Examiner’s office in Jefferson City. Examination might reveal the cause of death. Two days later the Medical Examiner’s report was faxed to Jim. Autopsy revealed that he had died of drowning. The mutilation had occurred post mortem. Comparison of DNA from all of the various body parts with the Army DNA database confirmed that they were the remains of Rory O’Connor.