Страница 48 из 82
“None. In fact, I had only the dimmest recollection of Violet Sullivan’s disappearance. I’d read the occasional newspaper account, but I hadn’t paid much attention until Daisy contacted me this past Monday. Ta
He settled a look on me that was friendly enough, but had a no-nonsense undertone. “Anything else you find, you make sure I hear about it first.”
“Absolutely.”
We returned to the others. The five of us watched while one of the ID techs photographed the area while the other tech took measurements and drew a rough sketch, depicting what was believed to be the angle and orientation of the car. Given what they could see in the early phases of the work, the speculation was that whoever engineered the burial had used a bulldozer with an eight-foot blade, probably creating a ramp at a twenty- to thirty-degree angle. The car had been backed into the hole and then covered with fill. According to calculations, it would have taken approximately fifty feet of ramp to a maximum depth of fifteen feet in order to get the whole of the car underground with the front end sunk deep enough to prevent discovery. Now I could see what that pesky high school geometry class was about. There was no point in going to all the trouble of burying a car if the hood ornament was going to wash clear in the first big rain storm. If the job were poorly done, the car would emerge, little by little, over a period of time until it looked like an island in the middle of the lawn. Assuming the whole of the vehicle was there. Maybe we were looking at the bisected front end with nothing else attached. Detective Nichols excused himself and went back to the dig.
If speculation about the depth and angle was correct, the car was tilted beneath the surface like a sunken submarine, hung up on an underwater shelf. That being the case, the roof of the car and the top edge of the windshield would be approximately two paces back and some two and a half feet deep. To test the theory, Nichols whistled the young deputy over, handed him the shovel, and directed him to dig. He set to work, keeping his cuts shallow. Fifteen minutes later, the blade of his shovel scraped the surface of the roof.
There was a long debate about the use of an excavator, a motion that was quickly ratified. The idea of freeing the vehicle by hand was out of the question. The ID detective radioed and a deputy was dispatched to A-Okay Heavy Equipment to ask Padgett if he had one available. This generated an additional delay while the excavator was located, loaded on a low-boy flatbed truck, and driven out from town.
Ta
“I called him and he’s on his way out. Let me go see what Tim Schaefer has to say. He’ll know more than we do.”
Steve crossed the road. Schaefer was standing in a small knot of men. During the course of their conversation, the flatbed truck arrived. Tom Padgett had followed in his car, and he supervised the off-loading of the compact John Deere excavator, after which the equipment operator was the only one allowed in the magic circle. Padgett was relegated to the sidelines in the same way we were, which seemed to a
Ken Rice found a ride home while Schaefer remained. He stood sipping coffee from a styrofoam cup someone managed to provide. Even retired, he was drawn to the drama unfolding before our eyes. Jake Ottweiler pulled up and parked his car down the road. His son walked out to meet him and the two returned to Tim Schaefer’s side. Having worked for the sheriff’s department for thirty-some-odd years, he was the reigning civilian expert. I noticed BW McPhee was on hand, having appeared at some point. I also caught a glimpse of Winston, but didn’t have a chance to make eye contact before he disappeared again. A local TV station sent a crew, and Detective Nichols gave a brief, uninformative statement, essentially referring the reporter to the sheriff for further comment.
At 5:45 Daisy arrived. Ta
“It’s a bit melodramatic, but I took it as a good sign,” I said.
“What are your plans for tonight?”
“I was expecting to head home, but now I think I’ll hang out until we know what we’ve got down there.”
“You can’t go back to the Sun Bo
“No, but there are other motels.”
“Spend the night at my place. Ta
“If I stay, I’ll either need to do laundry or borrow some underwear.”
“We’ll do both.”
“This is such guy stuff. I love it,” Ta
Detective Nichols joined Tim Schaefer on the far side of the road, introducing himself to Jake and Steve Ottweiler. After a few more minutes of conversation, Nichols returned to us. He knew by then that the Ottweilers owned the property and that Daisy was the only child of the missing Violet Sullivan. He introduced himself to Daisy, and I could see her taking him in-glasses, clean-shaven, nice smile. There was a shift in her posture. Clearly she found him attractive.
He glanced at the clusters of onlookers out by the road. Even with their limited line of sight, there was something compelling about the work. “I’m about to have the deputies clear these people out of here. This is not a spectator sport. If we need to bring in additional equipment or manpower, I don’t want to have to work around all the looky- loos and parked cars. I’m going to have you give the deputy contact numbers in case I need to get in touch. I’d appreciate your keeping quiet about anything you’ve seen or heard. We don’t want details getting out. The less information we have in circulation, the better.”
“It’s all right if we stay?” Daisy asked.
“As long as you do what you’re told and keep out of the way.”
“How long will it take? I know you can’t say exactly…”
“I’m guessing two days. No point being hasty and damaging the car beyond what nature’s already done.”
“But you haven’t found anything?”
“Not so far. I understand your concern about your mother and I’ll keep you informed. As soon as we free the car, we’ll take it to the impound lot. We’ve got a storage facility, where we can warehouse the vehicle while we go over it. Right now we have no idea what evidence we’ll find, if any, after all this time. What about your father; have you talked to him?”
Daisy shook her head. “I came right from work. I assume somebody’s called him by now, but maybe not. I’m sure he’d be here if he knew.”