Page 56 of The Murder Between Us
The manila folder with the report from the tip line sat beside the call logs. Noah flipped it open. A transcript from one of the calls was printed on FBI letterhead.
Hey, I’m with the Boone County Sheriff’s,it read.I want to stay anonymous. If this is nothing, I don’t want to cause something. But if it’s something… Well, I saw Sheriff Olson and Deputy Garrett have a big fight last week. They were out past Luther, pulled over near the river on 270th. I saw Garrett shouting at the sheriff. He was real mad. Real mad. And Sheriff Olson came over and shoved him, hard. He fell on his ass and stayed there, glaring at the sheriff. Sheriff Olson walked away from him and got back in his truck, and the next thing I saw was the sheriff speeding away, back to Luther. I filed that under not my business, but, well. Thought you should know.
Next in line, after the transcript, was Garrett’s military service record. His DD214 with his honorable discharge. Four-year simple enlistment in the Marines, basic rifleman. Nothing distinguishing about his service. Nothing detrimental. He was a solid marine, according to the record. He’d enlisted a week after Kyle and Shelly were shot and killed in Ames.
It was what happened before his enlistment that commanded Noah’s attention.
He’d never known Garrett had attended Iowa State for two years. Or that he’d studied criminal justice, earning straight Bs for his entire time at the college. Even all the way through the first six murders.
Their names were imprinted on the inside of Noah’s skull.
Kelsey Cohen. Iowa State.
Ellen Kemp. Iowa State.
Paige Blanton. Simpson College.
Lauren O’Neil. Faith Baptist.
Monica Venneslund. Iowa State.
Stacy Shepherd. Iowa State.
And now, three more.
Kimberly Foster. Faith Baptist.
Jessie Olson. Iowa State.
Molly Hayes. University of Iowa.
And their fathers and families.
The University of Iowa didn’t fit with the Coed Killer’s pattern of sticking to Highway 69 and the Des Moines colleges. The University of Iowa was halfway across the state, between Cedar Rapids and Davenport. But Molly was living at home for the summer, with John and the rest of the family. And Garrett knew her, knew John, knew where they lived. She’d also been in the news, like all the other victims. If Garrett had wanted to kill a family, was it inconceivable he could have picked John Hayes’s?
Noah rubbed his hand over his eyes as Cole came up behind him. “What do you think?” Noah asked.
“Pretty damning evidence,” Cole said softly.
“But no murder weapon,” Jacob said.
The whole task force was with them. Sheriff Clarke was leading a team of two Des Moines police officers on a timeline reconstruction of Andy’s Iowa State classes, while Deputy Holland, Deputy Santos, and Deputy Nichols were cross-referencing each of the six original victims’ classes with Garrett’s. Professor Pflueger appeared in the overlap more than once.
The only county not represented on the task force, for the moment, was Boone. Garrett was still in his holding cell, and his backup…
Deputy Venneslund was still in Noah’s office.
“Venneslund?” Cole had asked Noah in private, after Deputy Venneslund met them, stiff and uncomfortable and pale, at the elevator that morning. “Monica Venneslund’sfather?”
“Yes. He was the one who did the welfare check at Monica’s apartment when she didn’t show up for her classes. Finding her like that almost broke him. It did break his wife—and ended their marriage. She’s gone, moved to California. Last anyone heard, she was drinking at the end of Huntington Pier, hoping the waves would take her away. John helped him stay on his feet. And we’re lucky he did. Venneslund’s a great guy. Great deputy. I’ve worked with him a dozen times, and I’ll work with him any day.” He’d flinched. “Except today.”
Deputy Venneslund had followed the two of them into Noah’s office before his stoic facade slipped. He sank into one of the chairs crowded in front of Noah’s desk, heaving great gasps as he clenched his Stetson, almost crushing the brim. “I heard,” he’d managed to choke out, “they found Monica’s photo in Andy’s apartment?”
Noah had crouched in front of him. He’d grabbed Venneslund’s wrists, steadied the man. “We’re going to figure out what’s going on. We’re going to get answers from Garrett about everything. About Bart, and Jessie, and what he had in his apartment. And if he was responsible, in any way, for anything that happened back then.”
Venneslund had sat back, his eyes glazing over as he retreated into the past. He stared at nothing, at the memories he kept on a loop in the back of his mind. “All this time,” he’d whispered. “ItrainedAndy. I was his training partner.”
“Why don’t you stay here? I know Boone County sent you as the task force rep, and I know you’ve wanted to be involved in getting justice for Monica, but…”
