Page 22 of The Murder Between Us
“Exactly that Madison County.”
“The entire internet, then, knew Bart Olson was taking over Deputy Lee’s graveyard shift. And for a killer surveilling young, accomplished, college-aged women like Jessie Olson, that was a gift-wrapped piece of information for him.”
“No one knew he was back. No one knew Jessie Olson was being watched—”
“I’m not blaming you. Or anyone else.” Cole held up his hands. “This guy works hard at not being found. He’s good at evading capture.” He looked around the living room, at the blood spray and the surfaces where there should be usable forensics. Should be. “You ever wonder about that? About why he’s so good at evading capture?”
“We thought, back during the first task force, that he might have law enforcement exposure. If not experience, then a passing knowledge of forensics. Of course, that was whenCSIwas all the rage. He could have watched a lot of TV or read a lot of books.”
Cole paced the edge of the living room. “If you were surveilling someone in a place like this, how would you do it? Any stranger’s car would stand out, especially in a place like Alleman or out here near Dallas Center. And I bet Bart Olson would notice if someone strange was poking around his property.”
“No one in town would bat an eye if a police car was nearby, though.”
Cole nodded. “No one would bat an eye at all.”
“There are almost six thousand law enforcement officers in the state.”
“I’m not saying the killer is a cop,” Cole said. “But he is able to convince people he’s not a threat. Blend in, even in places where he might normally stand out. He could be pretending to be law enforcement.”
Noah turned away, rubbing his forehead. He circled the stain where Bart’s body had fallen, kneeling by an evidence marker and a blood splatter along the wood paneling.
Jessie’s bedroom was exactly like Kimberly’s: stripped bed, fingerprint powder everywhere, crime sign markers scattered like jacks. Cole could almost see the indentation left by her body on the mattress, or the killer’s knees as he straddled her and wrapped his hands around her throat. He held up the crime scene photo of Jessie dead on her bed next to the real thing, trying to transpose the two in his mind. He looked back and forth, trying to take everything in. Trying to work backward and understand the killer. Trying to put himself inside the murderer’s mind.What were you thinking when you looked into her eyes and watched her die?
“Bart came to check on Jessie when he got home—it was the first thing he did. The autopsy photos showed he was still in his uniform. He hadn’t had a chance to change. Where was his service weapon?”
“Locked in the safe in his truck. He had a personal sidearm in a safe inside his nightstand and a shotgun in the master closet. Both were right where they were supposed to be.”
“He had his guard down,” Cole mused. “But he still checked on his daughter at five thirty in the morning.”
He stood in the hall, eyes flicking from smeared handprint to smeared handprint along the wall. They were more like blobs on a Rorschach test, nothing but red and violence and despair. “Bart came to check on her, and the killer surprised him just like he did Frank.” Cole mimed the attack, slowly pirouetting down the hall, his shoulder almost impacting the dented drywall, his palm ghosting over a smear of blood running from eye to waist level. “They fought in the hall, until the killer got him to the living room. Then he overpowered Bart.”
“How was Bart overpowered?” Noah shook his head. “He was a trained law enforcement officer.”
“Surprise and rage are an incredible combination. The killer had the advantage. He was fighting for his life, and he knew it. Bart was stumbling in the dark, and he expected to see his sleeping daughter. Not find a killer hiding in her room.”
Noah blanched. He seemed, for a moment, like he was going to be sick.
“Bart’s life ended here,” Cole said back in the living room. He was stating the obvious, but he tried to see it, really see it. Pull the curtain back, reassemble the devastation to visualize the two men wrestling on the ground, throwing each other into the walls, grabbing furniture and picture frames and broken glass as weapons. He zeroed in on a toppled curio cabinet, on the tumbled frames and broken glass and shattered awards. “In Honor of Fifteen Years of Service,” one read. “Linn County Sheriff’s Department.”
“Did they find what the killer used to beat him to death?” he asked.
Noah shook his head.
“It’s probably an award.” He squatted by the broken cabinet and picked through the remnants. Ten-year service award. Fifteen-year service award. Commendations. Awards for marksmanship. Community service. There was nothing from Boone County. “Shouldn’t Bart have something recognizing his election as sheriff here in Boone?”
“There’s a star,” Noah said. He crouched beside Cole, poking through the broken glass with his pen. “It’s a five-pointed sheriff’s badge made of crystal. Their name is engraved on it, and the years of their term. Each sheriff who wins election receives one.” He shook his head. “It’s not here.”
“Someone missed it?” Cole’s eyebrows shot upward. “Who was in charge of the crime scene?”
“Deputy Andy Garrett.” Pain flickered across Noah’s face. “He was a mess the day of the murder.”
The deputy who had stormed out, who couldn’t take looking at the autopsy photos or hearing the gruesome description of what had been done to Bart and Jessie Olson. How much worse had it been to see their bodies in person? Photos were one thing. The visceral experience of seeing the destroyed remains of someone you cared about was something entirely different. “I sympathize with the man. However, if Deputy Garrett wants to catch Bart and Jessie’s killer, he has to process the scene correctly. We’ve got to find the murder weapon.”
“Yeah.” Noah pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll talk to him when we get back.”
By the time they were finished at the house, it was past lunch. Noah drove back toward Des Moines and asked if Cole was hungry.
His stomach growled. Noah chuckled. “If you hadn’t had pizza yesterday with Jacob, I’d take you to get a taco pizza.”
