Chapter 25
Rachel held up her hand, shielding her eyes against the harsh midday sun that periodically pushed its way through the fog. An unpleasant briny smell floated through the muggy air, and mosquitoes made a landing strip of her arms. Thank goodness she’d had the sense to wear long pants and sturdy boots. She lifted the yellow crime scene tape that was hanging between large cypress trees. Peter and Rankin, who’d met her at the scene, followed her and ducked under the tape, as did Red.
“Hey, Agent Krapek,” said Rachel, spotting the woman’s shiny blond hair. “I didn’t think we’d see you this morning. Anything new?”
Krapek looked up from the notepad she held in her hand. “Not yet. Our guys have been out here the last two days. We’re just wrapping it up.”
Rachel knew that the local sheriff’s office plus the FBI’s crime scene investigators had been through the swamp in recent days. If anything was there to be found, it probably would have been found by now. But nonetheless, Rachel was determined to take a look for herself, for the sake of the O’Malley kids.
“Can you show us where the arm was found?” Rachel asked.
Agent Krapek led the Florida Omni Search team over to the edge of the swamp where the local fisherman had pulled up his line. “Right over there.”
Rachel had Peter work his magic around the site with his thermal imager, while Rankin walked around the perimeter with Max in tow. Rachel was able to secure some clothing that the kids and Erin had recently worn. She watched as Rankin followed Max around the dirt trail that wound its way along the bayou. Max would sniff the ground, pause, continue walking along the trail, and sniff again. Red went to talk to the crime scene techs, who were loading up their equipment.
After two hours of going over an expended area, Rachel called it quits with her team. “I’m going to head over to the bait store and get some cold drinks. I’ll meet you guys back here in a few,” she called out to her team.
“Want me to drive you over? That’s a bit of a walk,” Red offered.
“It’s okay. I need to clear my head.” Rachel used a purple bandanna to wipe the sweat from her brow and headed down the road toward McDaniel’s Fish Camp.
It was a ten-minute walk, and Rachel was grateful for the silence. She walked into the two-story worn clapboard store.
“What can I get ya?” an old man called out from behind the counter.
“Just looking for something cold to drink.”
He pointed to the back of the store. “Soft drinks to the right, beer and wine on the left.”
“Thanks.”
Rachel felt his eyes on her as she made her way down the aisle. Dust covered most of the merchandise. Grimy boxes of cereal, bread, Pop-Tarts, and cookies filled the rows of shelving. At the end, a large walk-in cooler held water and soft drinks. Rachel grabbed two bottles of water, a soda for Rankin, and an energy drink for herself. On the way through the snack aisle, she impulsively added a large bag of salted cashews that seemed slightly less dirty than the rest of the merchandise. Juggling her purchases, she laid them down on the counter. The old man started ringing them up without even looking at her.
“That all?” he asked, bagging the items.
“Yes, thanks.”
“You looking for that missing family?” he asked, startling her with the question.
“I am. Did you know them?”
The old man shifted a wad of chewing tobacco around in his mouth. “Me? Naw. I just read about it in the news. I haven’t seen you around the last week, though. Most of the sheriff and FBI folks have been in, but you, I haven’t seen yet.”
“I’m with Florida Omni Search. We assist law enforcement agencies in locating missing people,” Rachel said. She dug out a business card and handed it over to him. “I’m Rachel Scott.”
He looked at the card and then stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “I know the guy that found the arm,” he said as a matter of fact.
Rachel studied his worn, leathery face. “Really?”
“Yup. He’s my son.”
“So that’s an area where he normally hunts?”
“Yup. He pulled up the line to check for gators and pulled up a woman’s arm instead. Ran down to the store screaming like a little girl. After he calmed down, we called the sheriff.”
“I suppose the sheriff’s department has talked to you and your son?”
He nodded before grabbing an empty plastic soda bottle and spitting a stream of brown liquid into it.
“Did you notice anyone strange in the area the week before he found the arm?” Rachel asked, trying not to look repulsed by his actions.
“I told the deputy sheriff about it already. Aaron ran off some man last Friday just as he was coming in for the night. My boy is very territorial with his lines and traps, and this guy looked like he was up to no good.”
Cha-ching. Something Agent Krapek hadn’t shared with her, Rachel thought.
“Did your son Aaron happen to see what kind of vehicle this guy was in?”
“No. He just saw the boat. Pulled up next to the guy and told him to beat it.”
“Can you give me a description of the boat and the man?” Rachel asked, holding her breath. She wasn’t law enforcement, and this tidbit of information apparently wasn’t going to be shared with her. If Drake Reynolds had been on Krapek’s team this time around, he would’ve shared this with Rachel already. But Krapek and Phipps tended not to be so generous. The FBI liked to solve its own cases, and in the last big one the agency had been involved in, Rachel had found the missing teenager before the agents did. This was the case of the daughter of the Florida governor, and Krapek didn’t like getting her toes stepped on given it was such a high-profile case.
“Camo-covered johnny boat. Black guy was driving the boat. Not many black fellows fishing in this area. The FBI had some artist come in earlier today and had my boy describe the fellow he saw.”
Well, that was something to go on, Rachel thought. She thanked the older man and then headed back to share the information with her team. All it took was something small like this to crack a case wide open. The black man and his boat may not have had anything to do with the O’Malley case. Then again, it may have everything in the world to do with it.