Walk the Wire Page 6

  “Glad to hear it. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “What the hell is that thing?” asked Jamison.

  They were in the rental SUV heading east. They had cleared a slight rise in the otherwise flat plains and spied what appeared to be an Egyptian pyramid with its top chopped off and what looked like an enormous golf ball set atop this flat space. It was about a hundred and fifty feet high and made of what looked to be stone. It dwarfed the other buildings set behind it, all enclosed by double perimeter fencing with razor wire toppers.

  “That’s the Douglas S. George Defense Complex, otherwise known as London Air Force Station,” replied Kelly, who was riding next to Jamison.

  She said, “Air Force station? I don’t see any planes or runways.”

  “It’s not an air base. It’s an air station. Although they do have a runway for planes and a helipad. And a super-duper radar array is housed in that blob. It can see into space. It’s part of the early warning system in case somebody fires nukes at North America.”

  “Stuck way out here?” commented Jamison.

  “I guess some politician from North Dakota lobbied hard for it. But it’s pretty ugly, so would you want something like that in your backyard? Anyway, it’s been here since the fifties, long before I was alive.” He pointed to an upcoming road. “Hang a right there, Alex.”

  She did so and they found themselves passing fairly close to the Air Force station.

  “Not too far now,” said Kelly. “Just up ahead we turn left and then we’re there.”

  Decker looked puzzled. “But it looks like we’re still on the Air Force property.”

  Kelly smiled. “About ten years ago most of the property went up for auction and the Brothers bought it. And then frackers recently leased some of it from them.”

  “The Brothers bought land from the federal government that has an Air Force installation on it?” said Jamison, looking surprised.

  “I guess Uncle Sam is trying to cut costs, or they didn’t need all of the acreage. And they didn’t buy the Air Force station, of course, just the spare acreage. Now, the Brothers did need that land. They’ve spun off a few new colonies and they needed the space for those folks to set up their farms and other operations.”

  “Just so I’ve got this straight, you have a religious sect plowing fields right next to a government eye in the sky looking for nukes coming our way?”

  “It would make for a great skit on Saturday Night Live,” observed Kelly.

  Jamison hung the next left, and another quarter mile down a freshly paved road, they arrived at the Brothers’ compound.

  Kelly had phoned ahead, and there were two men waiting by a large metal farm gate. Even in the heat and humidity they were both dressed in heavy, dark clothing and wore battered black fedoras with silk gray bands. Full beards covered their jaws and chins. One wore a pair of old-fashioned pince-nez glasses. The other one, younger by about ten years than his late-fiftyish companion, gazed at them curiously through horn-rimmed spectacles. About a hundred feet behind them was a tall woman in her late forties with brown hair flecked with silver, wearing a long dress with colorful stripes and a kerchief with white polka dots. She, too, was watching them closely.

  In the distance, Decker could see low-slung cinderblock buildings fronted either by well-tended lawns or crushed gravel. There were large corrugated-metal buildings, some grain silos, fenced crop fields, and many pieces of neatly arranged heavy farming equipment along with some other machinery that, to Decker’s eye, looked like they would be used in a building or manufacturing process. Everything was laid out with thought and precision, he concluded.

  “Like I said before, it’s all communal living here,” said Kelly as the SUV came to a stop. “No personal property, really, except your clothes and what’s in your house.”

  “The big buildings?” asked Jamison.

  “They sell eggs and vegetables, and other things that they grow. They also make furniture and some parts for manufacturing, and they also do metal fabrication. The fracking people buy from them. They have their own truck fleet to deliver everything. It’s a fairly large-scale operation when all is said and done. They’re very self-sufficient. Their English is excellent, though their first language is German.”

  “And you haven’t told them why we’re here?” said Jamison.

  Kelly’s look darkened. “No, not over the phone. It’s going to come as a shock.”

  “I’m surprised they have phones,” she said.

  “Well, they don’t allow TV or the internet, strictly speaking. But younger members do use Facebook and Instagram and email to keep in touch with friends, though that’s closely regulated. And cell phones are necessary for business and personal tasks, so they have those too. There’s only one central hard line phone. They worry that the outside world will try to encroach on them.”

  “And maybe convince some of the younger members to leave?” said Jamison.

  “The outside world can be enticing, for all the wrong reasons,” conceded Kelly.

  They climbed out of the vehicle and approached the two men, who came forward and extended their hands in greeting. They all introduced themselves to one another.

  The older man was Peter Gunther, who was the minister of this particular colony, and his companion was Milton Ames, the secretary. The woman, who had remained standing back, was Ames’s wife, Susan, her husband told them. She was the tailor of the colony, Gunther said.

  “And what does that mean?” asked Jamison curiously.

  “She picks all the clothes or at least the fabric and is in charge of the making of the clothes,” offered Ames.

  Jamison turned and waved at the woman, but she simply stared back and didn’t return the gesture.

  Gunther warily looked at Decker. “So the FBI? Joe didn’t say why you wanted to meet with us.”

  Kelly said, “Can we go inside? We’re going to tell you why we’re here, but it’s not going to be pleasant.”

  Gunther and Ames exchanged a startled glance. Gunther turned and led them toward one of the buildings.

  It was a startlingly clean communal kitchen with two long picnic-style tables down each wall and a similar table in the middle of the room. The appliances were commercial grade. A woman in a dress similar to Susan Ames’s was unpacking some supplies and placing them neatly in overhead cabinets.

  “Excuse us, Martha,” said Gunther. “We need to talk to these folks about some important matters.”

  Martha glanced suspiciously at Decker and Jamison and hurried into another room.

  They sat down at the table in the middle of the space. Gunther clasped his hands in front of him.

  “Now, why are you here?” Gunther asked Kelly.

  “Irene Cramer.”

  Gunther kept his surprised gaze on Kelly. “Irene? What about her?”

  Decker interjected. “We understand that she was going on a trip?”

  Ames spoke up. “That’s right. Our school had just started back up. But we saw no reason not to let her go. She coordinated with Doris, the Colony teacher. It was only a week or so. She should be back soon.”

  “When did she tell you about the trip?” asked Jamison.

  Gunther said, “Why all the questions about Irene?”

  Kelly glanced at Decker, who nodded. “Irene was found dead,” Kelly said to Gunther.

  “Dead?” exclaimed a horrified Gunther. “Where? How?”

  “The ‘where’ was out in the middle of nowhere. She was found by a hunter. The ‘how’ was that she was murdered.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised.”

  They all turned to see Susan Ames standing in the doorway where Martha had earlier walked through.

  “Susan?” exclaimed Ames. “What in heaven’s name do you mean you’re not surprised?”

  “Mindy? It was only a matter of time.”

  “OKAY, I ADMIT that one hit me out of left field,” said Kelly. They were outside in the heat, and he was smoking a cigarette. D
ecker stood there looking back at the building they’d left a few minutes ago. Jamison was standing a little away from Kelly’s cigarette smoke.

  Gunther and Milton Ames had apparently been so taken aback by Susan Ames’s statement that they had quickly ushered Decker and company out of the building, while they “discussed” things among themselves.

  “She knew about Cramer’s other life,” noted Decker. “Which begs the question of why she continued to allow her to teach their kids. And there’s something else.”

  “What?” Kelly asked as he tossed his spent smoke on the gravel.

  “If Susan Ames knew, who else did here?”

  “You really think one of the Brothers butchered Cramer like that?”

  “Locals can come here. Cramer worked here and she was an outsider. Any other non-Brothers around?”

  Kelly looked shrewdly at him. “Yeah, they hire contractors to help with the manufacturing stuff and some of the farming operations.”

  “Okay.” Decker glanced toward the dining hall. “If they keep us out here much longer I’m just going to kick the door down before heatstroke fully sets in.”

  “They might not like that,” warned Kelly.

  “They’re pacifists. So what are they gonna do about it?”

  Kelly grinned and then pointed. “Well, you just got your wish.”

  Decker looked over to see Peter Gunther standing at the open door and waving for them to rejoin him.

  Inside, Susan and Milton Ames were sitting side by side at the center table. He appeared upset and she looked somewhat contrite.

  Milton said, “Um, Susan wants to explain her earlier remark.”

  “Okay,” said Kelly, sitting down opposite them while Decker and Jamison hovered behind. Kelly said to Susan, “So you knew about Irene?”

  Susan wouldn’t look up. “Yes. And . . . it was very cruel what I said before. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess . . . I suppose I was upset.” Now she did look up and her eyes were watery. “But I did fear for her. And it seems that those fears were unfortunately justified.”

  “How did you know about her other life?” asked Decker.

  “This past spring our oldest son had gone to visit my sister and her family in Pennsylvania. They’re not part of us. But we do visit and keep in touch. He traveled by bus. I went into town to pick him up at the depot. He was late coming in, it must’ve been after midnight. I was waiting in my truck when I saw her walking down the street with some man.”

  “Irene, you mean?” said Kelly.

  “I had to look three times before I recognized her. It was more the way she walked, really, and how she would tilt her head. I would see her do that at the school all the time.”

  “Then you’re a careful observer,” noted Decker.

  Susan glanced nervously at her husband, who still stared down at the table. “I . . . I am someone who notices things. My duties here require that attention to detail.”

  “Go on,” prompted Kelly.

  “Well, the man was obviously drunk and had his hands all over her. I thought she might be in trouble. So I got out of the truck and called out to her. She was horrified to see me, I could tell. She started trying to get rid of the man who was with her. But he said the name Mindy, which is how I knew about that. Anyway, the man yelled that he’d pay her an extra hundred dollars if she, well, if she performed a certain act on him.” Susan blushed deeply as she said this, and Milton and Gunther looked like they might be ill. She noticed this and hurried on. “That’s when I realized it was more than some date that got out of hand. The man finally left and we sat in my truck and talked. She could tell I was very shocked and she explained at length about what was going on.”

  “Take your time and tell us everything you can remember,” said Jamison.

  “She said her mother had cancer, had no insurance, and she was sending all the money she made by, well, by being with men—”

  Here Gunther made a clucking sound.

  “—so as to help her mother,” finished Susan hurriedly.

  “So just to be clear, she told you she was selling sex for money?” said Kelly.

  “I know nothing about it, of course, but isn’t that the point? To do it for money?”

  Kelly glanced at Decker and didn’t answer.

  “Did you believe her about her mother?” asked Decker.

  “I was so stunned I didn’t know what to believe. But she seemed incredibly sincere, and so, against my better judgment, I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about what I had seen. She would have been instantly dismissed from working here if I had.”

  “Of course she would have,” bellowed Gunther. “And you should have told us, Susan. To think that our children were being taught by someone who . . . who engaged in such immoral behavior.”

  Susan glanced up at him defiantly. “And would it be moral to let her mother die?”

  “I’m sure there were other ways,” said Gunther. “Do you not agree, Milton?”

  Milton looked startled, as though he were a student hiding in the back of the room when the teacher called on him for an answer he didn’t have.

  “Yes, yes, of course. I’m sure there were other pathways.” He brightened. “She could have come to us. We would have helped her.”

  “Exactly,” said Gunther.

  “Maybe she didn’t want anyone’s help,” said Susan dismissively.

  “Well, then she alone should be accountable for it,” said Gunther firmly.

  “It looks like she was,” said Decker, drawing all their attention back to him. “Someone took her life, very brutally.” He scrutinized Susan. “What else did she tell you? Was she afraid of anyone? Had she received threats of some kind? Was anyone stalking her?”

  “Nothing like that.” She paused. “But there was something. Something she said. It was about two weeks ago. She was here working on lesson plans when I popped in.”

  “What did she say?” interjected Jamison. “As detailed as you can be, please.”

  “She was looking upset. I asked her why. She told me she had gotten a note or letter that had disturbed her.”

  “But you said she hadn’t been threatened,” noted Kelly.

  “Well, she didn’t say that the note was threatening. Just that it had disturbed her.”

  “Did she say who it was from?” asked Decker.

  “No. But it was shortly thereafter that she mentioned taking a trip.” She eyed her husband. “You were there, too, when she asked for permission to miss a week of school.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s right. She said she was going to visit her mother.”

  “And where did her mother live?”

  “She never said,” replied Susan. “In fact, I know little about her background.”

  “But surely if she was teaching here you needed to know about her background,” said Jamison. “She had to have appropriate credentials and experience and all that. Kelly said he learned from you that she had graduated from Amherst?”

  Milton chimed in, “Oh, yes. She brought her credentials and teaching certificate with her when she interviewed for the job.”

  “Do you have copies of those documents?” asked Decker.

  Milton said, “No, I looked at them but didn’t make copies.”

  “Did you do a background check on her?” asked Jamison.

  Milton shook his head. “No, we . . . no, we didn’t do that. She didn’t seem like a person who would have a criminal record. She was a young woman, nice, presentable with a college degree from an excellent school.” He glanced at Gunther. “It didn’t occur to us that there might be a problem in her past. She worked here for a year without any issues at all.”

  “And she was a very good teacher,” added Susan. “She was lively and engaging, and her curriculum was interesting and never crossed the bounds of what, well, what we value here. And the children loved her. They’re going to be devastated by this.”

  “We’ll find another teacher,” said Gunther firmly.

 
“I’m sure you will,” said Decker. “And let’s hope nothing happens to that person.”

  “This has absolutely nothing to do with us,” said Gunther indignantly. “This woman was a prostitute. I can only imagine the unsavory and dangerous people she would run into doing that sort of thing. I’m sure one of them is responsible for her death.”

  “I wish I was as sure as you are,” replied Decker before looking over at Susan. “When was the last time you saw Cramer?”

  She considered this question, her lips moving as though she were counting off days in her head. “Eight days ago.”

  “Here, at the school?” asked Jamison.

  Susan shook her head. “I was in town. We needed some . . . supplies. There’s a shop we use. They normally deliver out here, but they had two people out sick, so I drove into town.”

  “So where did you see her?” asked Decker.

  “She was coming out of a building.”

  “Did you talk to her?” asked Kelly.

  “I asked her when she was leaving on her trip to see her mother. I thought she would have already left, actually. She said she had been delayed but that she was leaving the next day, and she would be back to teach when she had originally said she would.”

  Decker asked, “Did she say how she was getting to wherever she was going?”

  “She had a car. An old Honda. I know that because she drove it to our school. But she didn’t tell me how she would be traveling to her mother’s.”

  Jamison said, “How did she look? Nervous? Happy?”

  Susan thought about this for a moment. “Resigned. Yes, she seemed . . . resigned.”

  Decker said, “As though her fate was already decided, you mean?”

  “Well, I didn’t think that at the time, because I didn’t know she was going to be murdered. But now that I know, I would say yes.”

  Kelly said, “So maybe she saw her own death coming?”

  Decker glanced at him. “Well, she saw right, didn’t she?”

  “DO YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW a guy named Stan Baker?” Decker asked Kelly on the drive back.

  Kelly said, “Stan Baker? Name doesn’t ring a bell. Should I know him?”

  “He works for a fracking company. He’s, um, he’s my brother-in-law.”