Chapter 1
Overton, Oregon P D
Night Shift
According to his wristwatch, it was exactly 11:00 PM as he climbed behind the wheel of his patrol car for the start of another midnight shift. John zipped up his duty jacket against the chill, it was cold and clear tonight the result of the rainstorm that had passed through just hours before leaving and the streets of Overton wet.
John looked out the windshield at the rain-slicked street as he drove and realized that his head was still hurting something fierce, despite the four aspirin, he had taken before work. He concluded that the headache was the result of too little sleep, yeah too little sleep, and the six straight bourbons he'd had before going to bed.
He had been doing that a lot these days he realized, drinking for no real reason except that he felt sorry for himself and figured that getting drunk would somehow help. John didn't think he was going to be very effective tonight, but what the hell he thought this sure wouldn't be the first time he had arrived hung over for his midnight shift.
John wasn't proud of his current station in life as a matter of fact; he often wondered why circumstances had conspired to get him to this point. He was 32 years old, a hair over 6 ft tall and weighed just 200 pounds. Not overweight exactly he mused but maybe a little excess body fat, after all he didn't do much real exercise these days. John's sandy brown hair was cut on the short side and his body was still muscular and firm despite the 200 pounds and lack of exercise. He always tried to look professional. Always keeping his uniform sharp and freshly pressed and his shoes highly shined regardless of anything else. That was one of the few things that he still took real pride in how his uniform looked, and although he did not consider himself a handsome man he did occasionally see one of the local ladies turn and look as he walked or drove by.
He hadn't always been this lax about his fitness he realized. Back when he was in high school, he had been lean, strong, muscular, and good looking with a trim fit athletic body that was the result of constant workouts and a running regiment that had allowed him to become a football and wrestling star as well as a competitive swimmer. In high school he'd been the envy of everyone who knew him mainly because he went steady with Cindy Hampton the most attractive and popular girl in school.
John was also very intelligent and despite his athletic hero status and his social prominence, he always managed to make excellent grades, which pleased his parents immensely. School had come easy for John, even if he was a bit to cocky at 17. When he graduated with honors his folks had wanted him to go to college in the worst way. John's dad had wanted better for his son than working at some dead end job for the rest of his life and he knew that education was the key. John was too hard headed to listen to his parents, he had already made up his mind, he wanted to join the navy and see the world.
John's military career had started just like a lot of other navy recruits with boot camp at the Naval Training Center Great Lakes, Illinois a world away from the laid back west coast where he had grown up. It was the first time he had ever been away from home, and even though he had been lonely at first it had turned out to be 8 of the easiest weeks of his life. John had sailed through with almost no effort on his part graduating at the top of his recruit training class.
After graduation from recruit training and a short leave he had been sent Hampton Roads, Virginia for Master at Arms school where he'd studied to become an anti-terrorism specialist while learning the basics of law enforcement. For John being a Policeman was the ultimate goal in his life and his only real passion. He had wanted to be a cop, for as long as he could remember. Now he was getting his chance, but as he would later find out the navy in its infinite wisdom had something else in mind for him.
After he completed his training in Virginia, he'd been assigned to a shore patrol unit in San Diego near his home and for the first time he was really enjoying life. About 3 months into his assignment, John was approached by one of his officers and asked if he would be interested in putting his anti-terrorism training to use. When he replied that he would he was tested and accepted for a spot at BUD/S Basic Underwater Demolitions/SEAL, the elite naval special warfare school.
It was almost unheard of for someone his age and with no other qualifications or training to be considered, but it seemed the navy needed war fighters at that moment more than they needed another police officer. When John was notified that he had been accepted, he remembered believing that this couldn't be any harder than anything else the navy had thrown at him to date. He didn't realize then just how wrong he could be.
BUD/S Training Center
Coronado, California
John found out very quickly just what testing and being accepted meant. It started 25 weeks of the harshest most grueling training regiment that he could have ever imagined. During Hell week, the instructors were in his face every minute day and night yelling for him to get down, get up, lift that pole, in the surf, get out, to slow, give me 50 pushups.
John did more pushups than he believed humanly possible and every day a different instructor screaming at him and telling him.
“All you have to do to stop the misery Black is ring that bell and quit.”
John wanted to ring that bell in the worst way. He hated every single minute of it, the lack of sleep, the running, being forced to eat his meals in two minutes while standing up or sitting neck deep in mud. He spent his days wet, tired, cold and covered in sand and never allowed to just sit down to rest. Yeah he wanted to quit all right and just get back to doing the job he loved most being a cop.
Even so, with each new threat, with each new set of pushups John got mad, and he made up his mind that he would never give them the satisfaction of seeing him walk away. They could throw him out but he would never quit on his own and it was that attitude and some inner strength that had given him the guts to tough it out.
After completing BUD/S John went to Jump School, then Military free fall school, tactical Air Operations School and finally SEAL's qualifications school forty-eight weeks in all. Finally, on a bright cool September day back in Coronado, California he had stood with the 12 men remaining out of the original 42 who had started the training, at attention on the parade ground in his dress whites. While the Master Chief pinned on the trident of a navy SEAL and said, “Welcome aboard."
He'd been pretty proud of himself that day, and he had a right to be. John's mom and dad were proud of his too as they had sat in the stands and watched the ceremony. The next four years were a succession of long training days that consisted of brutal runs and hours on the firing range and in the hand-to-hand combat instruction that was designed to hone his skills to a razor edge in order to achieve military objectives and keep him and his teammates alive. The constant training regiment was occasionally broken up by the five covert mission about which he later learned he could never talk. Almost without realizing it 24 year old John Black found himself at the successful end of his enlistment. The medals and decorations on his dress uniform quietly bespoke the strong levelheaded bravery and skill he'd displayed on missions that were recorded only in the classified files of the Pentagon but were also a silent testament to the horrors of war that he had witnessed and participated in.
Now despite the urging of his officers and senior NCO's to reenlist and stay with the teams Chief Petty office John Black decided to get out of the navy. With his honorable discharge in hand, he found he was ready for the next challenge in his life.
Ten months after his discharge from the navy, he again stood at attention on a parade ground. But this time being given what he considered to be the chance of a lifetime, the chance to live a dream as he stood among 50 other men and women in new blue wool uniforms waiting for the graduation certificate and the shield that would make him an official Los Angeles Police officer. It was without a doubt the proudest day in John's life.
John's career with the LAPD started in patrol at the infamous 77th street station on the PM shift, perhaps the busiest and most dangerous shift in LA police work. At 77th, John dealt with street gangs, drunks, car chases and foot pursuits. There were the petty thugs and prostitutes, the shootings, drug arrests, armed robbery in progress calls and the domestic disturbance calls that were often bloodier than some of the mission's, he been on while in the navy. But even with all the horror and the blood and the inhumanity he saw John stuck with it because he couldn't imagine himself doing anything else.
Tough though it was and despite being shot at numerous time, stabbed once and nearly beaten to death by a five foot, 14 year old girl on PCP and despite all the other occasions where it would have been easier to just quit and walk away John stayed. After four years in patrol lead officer John Black was selected for promotion and transferred to Central Bureau Hollenbeck station as a brand new Detective where he was assigned to the Robbery/Homicide detail. At the time, John genuinely thought that his life could not possibly get any better.
At Hollenbeck because he was the new guy, John was made the brunt of all the juvenile practical jokes. Enduring the rubber spiders and the fake snakes in his desk drawer, the ex-lax mixed into the chocolate cookies, the tacks left on his office chair and the hamburgers ordered in that someone always managed to doctor with jalapeno sauce. He put up with it all and tried to take it in stride. He worked hard accepting every assignment that came his way and as time progressed, the practical jokes grew fewer as newer guys came on and John got more experience. Finally, he found that he was more or less accepted as an unofficial member of the old boys club.
John had strongly believed back then that if he worked hard put up with the crap and did a good job that maybe just maybe he would make a name for himself and possibly even another promotion. But although he has been a remarkably effective and well regarded uniformed officer John found to his dismay that he was only a mediocre detective. Oh he tried hard listening to every bit of advice he got, especially from his partner sergeant Al Davis because he wanted so badly to succeed.
His job had been his whole life back then, and he had found little time to go out and socialize. There was a string of one night stands with girls he met on the job and a brief love affair with a young good looking female patrol officer whom he felt certain he could make a life with. Even so, early on in their relationship she has insisted on a commitment from John, unfortunately, he was only committed to the job, and so it had ended like all his other relationships. Now after 3 years at Hollenbeck while others had been advanced to detective II and III, he was still a detective grade I.
Then one fateful day in late August, much to his shock John found himself standing in the Captain's office being asked to resign after being accused of stealing money from a murder victim. While standing in front of the Captain's desk that day with his stomach in knots, he'd thought back to that warm humid July night when his pager had gone off sending him as part of the on call team to yet another homicide investigation in a area of the city that had more than its share of homicides.
John had arrived at the scene ahead of his partner sergeant Al Davis, the 20-year veteran homicide detective who had taught John everything he knew. He had made sure that the crime scene had been secured and that statements had been taken from everyone just like Al had taught him to do. What he didn't do that night was wait for Al to arrive before crossing that yellow tape to begin the preliminary investigation the old two man rule, such basic stuff that even the uniforms knew it. So why had he ventured inside? John was not sure he knew the answer or why his life had taken that dreadful turn.
Once inside John had surveyed the body, taken notes and started to diagram the scene. Then he had started a preliminary search for evidence. It was all such basic stuff; he had done it dozens of times and could probably do it in his sleep. But not that night no that night he had gone in alone, and it had been Lieutenant Everson of all people, that 5 ft 6 inches self righteous little prick with a short man complex that had shown up as the on call Supervisor in charge and promptly got in John's face in front of the uniforms and assorted others.
Where was his partner Everson had yelled? John had told Everson that Al was running late but was on the way and John was just making some preliminary notes before the forensics' people took over! Everson always the stickler for proper procedure had chewed on John in front of everyone for what were only a few minutes but seemed more like an hour then told him to get the hell out and wait for his partner before reentering the crime scene. After that things just seemed to go down hill.
After Al had arrived on the scene, he and John had gone about completing the preliminary crime scene investigation but not without Everson right at their shoulders criticizing everything they did and pointing out how he wanted it done. Al had finally had enough and had asked Everson as politely as he could to please leave them alone while he and John finished their work. Everson had gone ballistic and stormed off.
Once they returned to the station to begin the murder book and write reports Everson had called them both into the Captain's office and began to chew them both out for insubordination. It seemed that while the uniforms had given John the ID from the body and had told him what they had observed as the first unit on the scene they had neglected to tell John about the money in the victim's wallet.
John had recorded everything the two uniformed officers had told him just as he had done dozens of times before. Now Everson was telling Captain Alexander that the uniforms had reported to him that when they arrived at the scene and checked victim for ID they found the victims' wallet contained $14,000 in cash along with several credit cards and other miscellaneous papers. But when the coroner's people had inventoried the victim's belongings the $14,000 was missing and Everson was accusing John of stealing the money from the body.
John couldn't believe his ears as he listened to Everson tell the Captain in that nasally little voice of his that when he arrived at the scene he had found John inside alone with the victim and had to order him out. John started to protest that he had not been told that there was money on the body! But Everson refused to let John speak and told Alexander that he was sure John had taken the money.
Al spoke up telling the Captain that John was his partner and as the senior man, it was Al's primary duty to accept blame but Everson had cut him off also saying he was positive of John's guilt. Things were beginning to look very bad for John. After an internal investigation, conducted by Everson, and which proved absolutely nothing John was given the unfortunate alternative of facing an official board of inquiry or resigning. John could not believe the turn of events. Even though there was not any hard evidence that he was guilty of anything the cloud of suspicion was now hanging over his head. The Department it seemed was being pressured by the citizens review board to come down hard on dirty cops and apparently, an accusation was all it took to get you canned.
As the days passed, John had tried to fight the charges and clear his name. But no matter what he did no one would willingly help because Everson was always right there to point out that a dirty cop deserved no consideration. Even John's friends had turned their backs on him not wanting to be painted with the same brush. Then the union had refused to take up his cause because he was told, although not in so many words, that once accused, he was guilty until he could prove himself innocent.
So over Al's repeated protests that they would get his record cleared of the charges John had angrily thrown his shield on Captain Alexander's desk and quit. After resigning, John had withdrawn all the money from his retirement saving a total of $18,451. It represented all that he had managed to save in the 7 years he had been on the job. With that money as a cushion and with high hopes that he would quickly find another job, he had spent the next 5 months applying to every Law Enforcement agency, he could think of.
What a laugh the job search had turned out to be. John quickly found that once you're accused of something like theft even though it wasn't proven there was not another department of any size that would touch him. They never said so of course, it was always something in the background that disqualified him. John also found out they were under no obligation to say what it was. He knew of course, but he couldn't prove anything and once disqualified you could not reapply. Therefore, After 17 applications and 17 rejections John simply gave up.
December 25th
John's LA apartment
It was Christmas day as John sat feeling sorry for himself and completely dejected. He did not know where turn or what to do next and he sure wasn't going to go to his folks for help. He was running out of money and all he could think of was that he had to get away from Los Angeles. Packing up all he currently owned in the world into 4 cardboard boxes and a suitcase and with the $3542.73 that remained of his savings he had left Los Angeles with no particular destination in mind and driven north.
Two days later, he had found himself in the little town of Overton just off Interstate 5 in northern Oregon eating lunch at a small dinner on the main street and looking at the local newspaper. After finishing his meal, and as he lingered over at a cup of lousy coffee, John saw the ad for a position as a Police Officer with the Overton Police Department. Not knowing if he had any chance at all or even if it would make any difference John had gone in that day and filled out the city application thinking he would give it one last try.
The next day when he was interviewed by Chief Charles Langford. The very first words out of the Chief's mouth had been.
“Why did you want to leave the LAPD?”
John had not wanted to lie to the Chief but was not sure what to say so he had told the Chief that he had grown tired of the big city BS and wanted a change. To John's surprise the Chief had accepted that and had told John that he was impressed with his background, and since they were both navy veteran's, he was going to recommend to the city manager that John be offered the job.
So at 8:00 am the following Monday morning John reported for duty in his newly purchased uniform and duty belt. He was assigned badge number 16, given one of the departments Smith and Wesson Model 10 revolvers, 18 bullets and a set of city keys. After filling out all the new hire paperwork, he was introduced to Officer Timothy Williams the day shift officer for what Chief Langford explained would be a brief break in period.
“Only a formality,” Langford had said.
Since John was an experienced officer, all he would need was to be shown around so he could start to get to know the town. Brief had been an understatement his tour around town had lasted all of two hours during which time Officer Williams had given John a brief overview of the paperwork. After Officer Williams dropped him off at the Police Department Chief Langford had told John to report for his first solo shift at 11:00 PM the following night. Now here he was working the night shift for the little Police Department of Overton Oregon population 1,263.
John found that the entire Overton Police department consisted of only 3 full time officers', 2 part-timers, the Chief and one secretary dispatcher. The department had 2 patrol cars, one of which was used exclusively by the Chief and John could not believe that this was the only lousy police job he had managed to get.
Chief Langford having accepted John's explanation for quitting LAPD had not bothered to check any further into his background. This had at least allowed John to make a living at the job he had once loved. He was now being paid the princely sum of $12.62 an hour, $2187 a month barely a third of what he had earned at LAPD.
Fortunately, John had few expenses and owed no money and had never found it necessary to have a credit card. Consequently, he was able to live comfortably, if somewhat frugally on his salary. John rented a small comfortably furnished one-bedroom apartment in Overton and continued to drive the 11-year-old Dodge he had purchased at a police auction in LA three years before. John would find out that Little Overton Oregon did have it's moments of excitement as he was called on to break up a bar fight at Linda's tavern at least a few times a week. The moments were few and far between and now 8 months later John sat in his patrol car parked under an old Elm tree in the vacant lot on Stanley Street at 3:15 AM, half-awake and wondering if his life could possibly get any worse and knowing that nothing was ever going to happen. At least it was his Friday, he thought, and he would have the next two days off to nurse his hangover and watch TV or perhaps start on a new hangover.
How he wondered for about the hundredth time, had his life come to this? John was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and he promised himself that he would forget the bottle of Jim Beam when he got off shift and try instead to get some sleep.
In another part of Overton
At that same time
A man driving an old blue pickup truck was wandered up and down the streets of Overton looking for an address.
“Shit,” the man said to himself, “it shouldn't be this hard to find one lousy address in a town this small."
Yet here he was hopelessly lost on some marginally lighted country road. Up the road, two men were sitting just inside the tree line waiting. One of them held a sniper rifle equipped night vision scope. They had followed the man in the blue pickup all the way from Los Angeles California when they had learned from the informant the company had inside the LAPD that the man was heading for the home of his former navy buddy in Oregon. Now they were ahead of the guy and waiting for him to pass on this dead end road.
Suddenly, the one with the sniper rifle saw the blue pickup coming and aimed the rifle at the truck. Just as the pickup truck drew abreast of him, he fired. The truck swerved briefly then came to a stop and died in the middle of the road. The two men went forward cautiously looked into the truck and saw that the driver was obviously dead. One of the men opened the truck door and quickly searched the body.
“Nothing” he said in frustration, “the documents are not here. You crazy jerk they told us to follow this guy not kill him let's get the hell out of here before that shot brings someone around. I told you to use the silencer why do you have to be such a cowboy? ”
“Hey,” said the one with the rifle, “it was a lucky shot I only meant to scare the guy.”
“Well,” said the other man, “your macho bullshit is going to get us thrown in jail.”
“No way,” said the shooter, “these hick local cops are nothing more than glorified security guards they're not smart enough to find their ass with both hands.”
“Well I don't care if they are stupid,” said the other, “even stupid people get lucky sometimes so let's go.”
The two got into their black suburban SUV and drove off.
In the Patrol Car
Parked on Stanley Street
John sat bolt upright. His eyes wide open he was not sure if he had really heard what he thought sounded like a gun shot. He had been patrolling the 1.1 miles of city streets in Overton for many months now and he had never once heard a gun shot. In fact, he was pretty sure that except for the PD, there were few guns in Overton. Overton was a fairly religious little town having six churches John had learned. Most of Overton's residents didn't approve of people who owned firearms and so hearing a gunshot was unusual to say the least.
John started up the patrol car and began to cruise around trying to decide if it had just been a dream, and he had really just imagined it all. John drove up and down the deserted streets finally turning onto Lotus Lane. A ½-mile further on near the intersection of county route 3 and the dead end at Hayes pond John saw a blue pickup truck sitting sideways in the road its lights on.
The headlights of John's patrol car illuminated the truck, which sat cockeyed half in the middle of the street with the driver's door part way open. Probably just some drunk that had made it this far and decided to sleep it off till morning thought John as he got out of his patrol car and walked over to look into the truck. As he walked towards the truck, John noticed a leg sticking part way out of the driver’s door. When he looked inside the cab of the truck what he saw changed everything.
The driver was lying across the seat with a bullet hole in the side of his head and his brains all over the passenger door window. John quickly returned to his patrol car and got on the radio to dispatch, which at this time of the morning was the County Sheriff's Department. The police radio that was in his patrol car was routinely switched over to the Sheriff's channel so that Overton's PM and night shift officers could be in contact with the sheriff's dispatchers after Overton's own dispatcher went off duty at 4:00 pm each day.
“Control, Overton 3-16,” said John!
“Go head Overton!”
“Control, I have a shooting victim and possible homicide just occurred on Lotus Lane a ½ mile north of 3rd street can you notify the on call detective and the crime lab truck?”
“Stand by Overton 3-16.”
Overton was too small a city to have either detectives or a crime lab and as a result had contracted with the County Sheriff's Department to provide those services if they were needed. John was pretty sure that they would be needed now.
Chief Langford always kept a radio base unit at his home, and he routinely monitored it when he was off duty. It was Langford's voice that John now heard asking John what was going on and why John had called the Sheriff's department before calling him. Apparently, John thought Langford had not heard the part about the dead body. John started to tell the Chief about the truck he had just found and about the guy in the front seat. Before he could get the words out Langford had angrily cut him off and told John that he would be there in a few minutes and to tell the Sheriff's dispatcher to hold off calling anyone until he had the chance to respond so John had made the call.
“Control, Overton 3-16.”
“Go ahead Overton.”
“Chief Langford requests that you standby on your notifications until he can respond."
“10-4 Overton standing by,” replied the dispatcher.
Then John had sat and waited for Langford to arrive. The Chief pulled up 5 minutes later dressed in his pajamas, bathrobe and slippers with his duty belt around his waist looking very upset and John believed, in no mood to hear anything John had to say.
Langford immediately got in John's face saying that the city did not have the money to be calling the sheriff's detective over some drunk who had parked his truck in the middle of the street and fallen asleep. John just stood there with his arms folded letting Langford vent his anger and when the Chief had wound down John pointed out that it was no drunk parked in the middle of the street. John told the Chief that if the guy in the truck was suffering from anything it was too much lead and not too much alcohol.
Langford with a suspicious look on his face had angrily walked over to the truck and looked inside. He had immediately returned to John looking very pale then went behind John's patrol car and proceeded to throw up what was left of the supper Mrs. Langford had obviously made him. John assumed the Chief had eaten beef stew for supper, but he couldn't be sure. After empting his stomach Langford had leaned against John's patrol car and in a somewhat shaky voice asked John to call the Sheriff's detective and the crime lab then went to sit in his own car and wait for them to arrive. Murder John assumed was obviously a rare event in Overton, Oregon. As Langford sat in his own car John had walked over to the truck and checked the victim for ID then returned to Langford showing him the victim's wallet which held only forty three dollars in cash, one twenty, one 10, two 5’s three 1’s and nothing else. John thought that was strange, but before he had time to think much about it his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a Sheriff's patrol car it's red and blue lights flashing and with two young deputies in it.
The driver started to block off and secure the crime scene with yellow police tape while the other deputy whom John didn't know but couldn't have been much over 21 years old walked over to where John and the Chief stood. The Deputy whose nametag proclaimed that he was Deputy Klotz spoke to John and Langford in a sarcastic and condescending voice. “Ok boys, so what’s going on here?” said the deputy.
John looked at him, and then started to explain what he had heard and then found a few minutes later but before John could get into the details Deputy Klotz abruptly cut him off.
“It doesn’t really matter does it” the deputy said, “we’ll handle it from here, you boys can go back to whatever it is you do in this town."
He then turned around and with a big shiteating grin on his face and started to walk away. Langford who was still looking pale said nothing but John in spite of his headache and his better judgment got mad and grabbing the deputy by the arm spun him around and with his finger in the deputy's face yelled.
“Look asshole, I don’t know who you think you are but this badge I’m wearing says Police Officer not boy, this is an Overton PD investigation and the Sheriff’s department is here to assist, YOU GOT IT?”
The young deputy got a shocked look on his face and seemed to shrink 2 inches.
In a somewhat shaky voice with his eyes averted so he didn’t have to make eye contact with John said, “Oh...oh...ok...k man, du...don’t get yourself all worked up I...I di...didn’t mean anything by that."
Then he had turned and almost ran back to his patrol car where John noticed him and his partner sitting and cowering trying not to be seen. A detective unit from the S.O. arrived a few minutes later. The detective was dressed in slacks an open collared sport shirt and windbreaker and appeared to John to be in his early 40’s. He was a little shorter than John was and had a medium build. His dark hair was receding but he looked muscular and strong. He projected the same self-assured manner and calm demeanor of an old hand. He introduced himself as Paul Farmer and shook hands with Langford.
Upon seeing the Chief’s condition he asked, “You ok Chief?”
He then turned to John, looking at his nametag and taking a somewhat more professional approach than the young deputy had, he asked, “Ok Officer Black can you fill me in on what’s going on here?”
John gave Farmer the few details that he had been able to gather before the arrival of the young smartass deputy and his partner. With Farmer in tow John walked over to the truck and surveyed the scene while Farmer immediately began to take notes and sketch a diagram. Farmer asked John if he knew who the victim was. John told him that he had never seen the man around before and also that there was no ID on the body but for some reason John's mind keep yelling at him telling him he was not sure if that was really true. He had a strangest feeling that he did know the guy but with half his face blown away it was hard to tell for sure.
John handed Farmer the wallet he had taken from the victims' pocket. Farmer carefully put it in an evidence bag and casually asked if John had removed anything from the wallet? John had immediately gotten angry.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, louder than he had intended.
“Nothing, I was just asking, are you ok?” Farmer had replied, somewhat shocked at John's sudden outburst.”
Suddenly embarrassed by his reaction to Farmers question John had hastily apologized then walked away just as the crime lab truck pulled up. With Farmer otherwise occupied for the moment John walked over to his patrol car, got in and watched as the forensics guys started to process the scene at Farmers' direction.
As he sat in his car making notes for his report Langford walked over and told John to forget about the paperwork for now and to get back on patrol until he could get another officer to come in. John looked at Langford but said nothing, started the car and drove away.
At 5:45 am the day shift officer Tim Williams found John parked in front of the PD office waiting for him. He told John that he was ready to take over and John handed him the car keys without comment then went inside the office where he turned on the lights and started a pot of coffee. This was going to be a very long day John believed as he sat down at the single computer and started to type in his report.
John had wondered when he started why Overton had only one computer and Chief Langford had patiently explained to him that it was because the city had not yet found the funds to purchase anymore. As he typed in his report the thoughts kept nagging at the back of John's mind. Who was that guy in the truck and why did he seem familiar? What was he doing out there in the middle of nowhere and who had shot him? John had a lot more questions than answers and the hangover that refused to go away was not helping him to sort out things. John got up and poured himself a cup of coffee and after one sip realized that he would have to remind himself to buy a better brand if he was going to be drinking it.
At 7:00 am Chief Langford showed up at the office. This time he was showered, shaved and dressed in his uniform. Langford told John that he had left the scene to detective Farmer and that Farmer had said he would be in touch as soon as he had the report from the forensics people. John told Langford that he would like to handle the investigation himself but Langford had replied that it was out of the question, it was the Sheriff's department's responsibility now and to stay out of it.
“I don't need to have the S.O. getting upset with me,” Langford had said, "because you're sticking his nose into their investigation."
John had tried to argue the point but Langford had his mind made up and John realized it would do him no good to pursue the issue any further. After finishing up his report, he checked out and headed home, it was 7:41 am.
John's Apartment
Overton, Oregon
John was awakened by the ringing of his doorbell and when he rolled over and looked at his alarm clock, he saw it was only 9:10 am. God he thought, I've been in bed less than an hour and now some jerk was ringing that dam door bell! If it was a salesman he was sure he was going to hurt the guy.
John got up pulled on a pair of jeans and rubbing his eyes, so he could see he went to the door. When he opened the door John was surprised to see detective Farmer standing there. Farmer apologized and asked if he could come in and once inside had sat at the small kitchen table while John put on a pot of coffee. Farmer made small talk while waiting for the coffee to brew and when John had poured him a cup Farmer casually mentioned.
“We ID’d the victim!”
“Well?” John asked after Farmer failed to say anything more.
“The guy’s name is Charles Bettencourt,” Farmer said studying John's face, “apparently he was active duty navy.”
John's mouth fell open and the shock was clearly evident on his face as he stood staring at Farmer the coffee pot still in his hand! That was why the guy had seemed familiar John thought. He has served with Charles Bettencourt or rather Chuck Bettencourt, as John had known him on the SEAL teams. John suddenly realized that he had not seen or heard from Bettencourt since his discharge over 8 years ago. What was Bettencourt doing here in Overton? John recalled Bettencourt was from Boston. There were no military bases anywhere near Overton so there should have been no reason for Bettencourt to be in the area.
John looked up when he heard Farmer clear his throat. It was only then that John realized that Farmer was staring at him. Farmer had been talking the entire time John was lost in thought.
“You alright?” Farmer asked.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” said John
Farmer repeated his question.
“So you know this guy Bettencourt then?”
“Yes I do,” replied John, “I served with him when we were both in the navy.”
Farmer asked John where he had served with the victim and John told Farmer that it was classified, and that he could not say more. Farmer just looked at John for a crucial moment.
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation at the Sheriff’s department because until I can get more information I now consider you a person of interest in this investigation!”
John started to protest but Farmer cut him off saying that any more conversation between them required Farmer to read John his rights.
“Am I under arrest here?” John asked.
“NO your not!” replied Farmer, “but this classified crap is not going to cut it with me. You better think real hard about this. I need any information you might have regarding this Bettencourt guy. If you are holding something back and I find out about it you're going to find yourself facing an obstruction of justice charge real quick. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal clear,” replied John, “Look Farmer, I know the procedures in a homicide Investigation. I'm sorry that I can't tell you anymore. But that fact is my service record is sealed and I can't give you any information without clearance from the Department of Defense.”
“So you know how to run a homicide investigation do you," said Farmer, “just what do you know about homicide procedure anyway?”
“I spent 7 years with LAPD,” replied John, “three of which was as a homicide detective.” Now it was Farmers turn to stare open mouthed at John.
“Why in the world are you working for Overton if you were an LAPD detective?” Farmer asked.
John could only stare at Farmer, he didn’t know what to say to the man and he sure wasn’t going to get into the details of why he had left the LAPD. Farmer told John that he wanted him at the Sheriff’s department as soon as possible to continue their conversation. John told Farmer that he had only just gotten to bed and asked if he could come in later say about 4:00 pm? Farmer agreed and got up to leave.
“I mean what I said about you being a person of interest Black so you had better show up at 4:00 pm or else!”
“Don't worry Farmer,” replied John, “I'll be there.”
After Farmer left John sat at his little kitchen table and sipped his coffee. His life had just taken a turn for the worse, and he didn't know why! At 3:00 PM John had gotten up shaved, showered and dressed. He got into his car and headed over to the County Sheriff's department office. He knew the office was located just off county road 15 about ten miles from the Overton police station. As he pulled up in front of the Sheriffs Department office and parked John noticed a dark colored suburban with tinted windows also parked several hundred feet away across the lot. It looked like the motor was running but from this distance he couldn't be sure. Seeing that suburban made the hair on John's neck stand up but since he couldn't see inside very well he shrugged it off for the time being.
County Sheriffs Office Lobby
3:45 PM
When John walked into the Sheriff’s office he immediately noticed the attractive young female deputy sitting behind the bulletproof glass in the lobby. She was petite and slender and her red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. John also noticed that she had the greenest eyes he had ever seen and he thought she was just about the most beautiful woman that he had ever laid his eyes on.
“Can I help you?” she asked, giving him a big smile as John's approach the window.
“Yeah,” said John, returning her smile and flashing his Overton PD badge, “I'm here to speak with detective Farmer. Is he available?”
The girl continued to smile while looking John over.
“Just a second,” she said, “I’ll tell him you’re here.”
As she walked towards the rear of the office John noticed that the S.O. uniform she was wearing sure did things for her figure especially the snug fitting pants. A few minutes later she returned and opened the door to the inner office.
“Right this way,” she said, “he’s waiting for you in his office.”
She led the way as John followed. Half way there she stuck out here hand while walking.
“My names Renee,” she said.
John took a hold of her outstretched hand noticing how soft and warm it was as he shook it.
“Nice to meet you my name's John Black,” he replied.
Renee's warm smile was infectious and it made John feel light headed as they walked together towards Farmers office at the rear of the building. Before reaching the detectives office door Renee stopped.
“Listen,” she said, “maybe we could go out for lunch or coffee sometime. You’re not married or anything are you?”
“No not married or anything,” He said, returning her smile, “and I’d like that very much. Can I give you a call?”
“Sure,” replied Renee, handed John a business card.
When he looked at the card he saw that her name was Renee Gifford and turning the card over he noted that she had printed a phone number on the back of the card. John just looked at Renee and smiled as he put the card in his pocket. Then he walked into Farmers office. Paul Farmer was sitting at his desk as John entered.
“Nice office Farmer,” John said, looking around, “all I got is old desk that I have to share with everyone else.”
“Guess it pays to work for the S.O.” Farmer replied.
Farmer indicated that John should sit in the chair in front of his desk. John sat down and continued to look around the office noting that Farmer had numerous framed training certificates indicating the large number of Law Enforcement schools and classes he had attended and graduated from. John also saw framed pictures of Farmer with people that he assumed were local politicians or other locally important people. There was also a framed diploma from University of Oregon declaring that Farmer had been awarded a Law Degree.
“You got a Law Degree,” John observed, “how come you’re not a Lawyer? This cop business sure can’t pay as well a being a Lawyer.”
Farmer turned in his chair and looked at the framed diploma on the wall behind him.
“I was hired by a big law firm right after I passed the bar exam,” he said, “but after 2 years of 15 hour days, 6 days a week and considering how many scumbags I had to smile and make nice with I decided it wasn’t worth the effort so I quit. I knocked around for a few months then joined the Sheriff’s department. I've been here for 22 years now so I guess this is it. So tell me about LAPD," Farmer asked turning back towards John, “I hear that’s a pretty good outfit to work for why'd you quit? It can’t be because you longed for the excitement of Overton Oregon.”
“No,” John replied, with slight laugh, “I got fed up with big city politics and decided to try something else. I just happened to end up here.”
Farmer looked suspiciously at John for a minute.
“That sounds like total BS to me,” he said, “but each to his own I guess. Let’s get down to business here. I did some checking on you after our conversation this morning and turns out your military records are sealed. I couldn’t get squat on you from the DOD. All they would say is that you served 6 years in the navy were honorably discharged and nothing else. What were you some kind of spy or something? Before John could answer Farmer continued, “I got a formal request in for information about your service record as part of an ongoing murder investigation so we’ll see what comes of that.”
“Good luck with that,” John replied.
“So setting that aside for a minute” said Farmer, “what can you tell me about this guy Bettencourt?”
John looked Farmer straight in the eye.
“Like I told you this morning,” John replied, “all I can tell you is that Bettencourt and I were in the navy together and I haven’t seen or heard from the guy in 8 years."
Farmer considered that for a moment.
“Why do you think Bettencourt was in Overton,” he asked.
“I haven’t a clue,” replied John.
Anxious to change the subject John asked Farmer what if anything he had learned at the crime scene. Farmer was quite for a minute as he stared at John. Then opening up a file on his desk he began reading from it.
“It looks like this guy Bettencourt was driving north down Lotus Lane and was killed with what we think was a rifle shot from the tree line a short distance away. I would estimate no more than 30 feet. It was a fairly large caliber weapon we’re certain of that from all the damage but we were not able to find the slug. We did a search of the entire area but couldn’t find anything. No tracks, no cartridge casings, nothing.
“The driver’s side window must have been down because there was no broken glass on that side of the cab. The slug exited the victims head and continued on out through the passengers' door window. According to the Pathologist the bullet struck the victim in the left temple 2 centimeters in front of his left ear. It exited out the right side of his head taking most of his head and face with it. Being that there was no driver’s license or other ID on the body the only way we were able to identify the guy was by his fingerprints. All that gave us was his name and the fact that he was active duty navy.
“We learned that the truck’s license plate was from a different pickup truck register to an address in Portland. When I ran the VIN number down it came back to an address in Medford. I had Medford CID try to contact the owner but they found out that the registered owner was deceased and that the truck had supposedly been sold for scrap and destroyed.
“From the position of the body it at first looked like the victim may have been conscious for a moment after the bullets impact and had tried to get out of the truck. However, from the amount damage that was done I don’t see how he could have moved after he was shot. The Pathologist later confirmed that he died instantly. I think that someone else, possibly the perpetrator, opened the drivers' side door after the shooting searched the truck and may have removed any ID that this Bettencourt had on him.
“My theory right now is that he was killed for something he may have had with him. Any idea about what that might have been?”
John just shook his head no and Farmer continued.
“We also found this in the front pants pocket,” as he tossed a small key across the desk.
John picked it up the key and looked at it. It was a plain looking silver key an inch in length with a small square head. The key had nothing printed on one side but there was a number printed on the other side.
“It could be to anything,” said John, “so what do you think?”
“Well,” replied Farmer with a skeptical look on his face, “I don’t know. There are no real unique markings on it. The lab says it might be to a lock box but their not sure. I will have to send it to the FBI lab for any further identification. I'll continue to try and run it down but as of now it leads nowhere.”
“Come on now Black let's cut the crap, help me out here,” pleaded Farmer, “I don’t think you are going to be giving away any government secrets if you tell me what you know about this guy!”
“I really don't know that much about him” John replied, “like I said before we served together and that’s it. We we’re never really close friends beyond going out for a few beers."
John went on to tell Farmer that he thought that Bettencourt was from Boston but he didn’t know if he had any family or even if he had a girlfriend or wife.
“Like I already said I haven’t seen or heard from the guy for 8 years and I have no idea why he would come to Overton.”
Farmer studied John for few minutes trying to decide if John was being straight with him or not.
“OK,” said Farmer, “I guess that’s it for now but stay in touch Black and let me know if you think of anything else.”
John said that he would and got up to leave. As he reached Farmers office door Farmer spoke up again.
“Mind if I give you a piece of advice?”
John looked at him. “Can I stop you?” he said.
Farmer looked at John for a second before speaking.
“I saw you talking to Renee out there before you came in here. She’s a nice girl and we all like her here. She’s just coming off a bad relationship and I don’t think anyone here would take it to kindly if you were to hurt her!”
John assured Farmer that he had no such intentions. Then he turned and left the office. Renee Gifford was sitting at the front desk as John walked towards the door. When she looked up and saw him approaching she flashed that killer smile at him.
“Hi how did it go?” she asked.
“Ok,” John said, “how long have you been with the S.O.?”
“About 4 years,” she replied, “I really like it, great bunch of people to work with.”
“Yes I guess so” said John.
“What’s up with you and Paul Farmer?” Renee asked.
“Just business we’re working a homicide in Overton.”
“Oh,” said Renee perking up, “so maybe I’ll be seeing more of you around here then?”
“Not really,” John replied, “Overton’s so small we have to call the S.O. for this kind of thing and now it’s Farmer's investigation. My chief wants me to keep my nose out of it and I think Farmer feels that same way.”
“He’s really a good guy,” said Renee, “Farmer I mean.”
“I guess he’s just doing his job,” replied John, then smiling at her, “anyway I’ll give you a call if you promise no shop talk when we meet.”
“Promise,” she said enthusiastically, “talk to you soon I hope?”
Renee gave John another big smile as he walked out of the office. As John was leaving the S.O. he noticed that the Suburban was still parked across the lot. John was replaying his conversation with Farmer while getting into his car but nothing made sense, and he could not seem to figure it out. He decided that the whole thing was just too bizarre to worry about it. John started his car and drove out of the S.O. lot heading back towards Overton. As he drove back to Interstate 5, he thought that he saw the Suburban behind him but with the heavy traffic he could not be sure.
John took the Overton exit and headed over to the PD to check his mailbox. As he pulled up in front he did not see the Suburban pull into a parking spot a block away as the man inside watched every move John made. John's mailbox at the PD was empty so he left got back into his car and headed home with the Suburban following a discreet distance behind.
When John arrived at his apartment, he quickly noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. Drawing the small 2 inch chief's special he had purchased at the local pawnshop for $50 bucks as an off duty gun, he slowly pushed the front door open. He could see the apartment was in disarray as if it had been searched, everything was a mess with drawers pulled out and some of the furniture overturned as if someone had tossed the place in a hurry. He guessed that they must not have found whatever it was they were looking for, but he had absolutely no idea what that could be.
After John satisfied himself that no one was in the apartment he closed the door and started to straighten up. As he put things back in place questions kept running through his head. Why was Bettencourt in town? Why had his apartment been searched? Who was in that Suburban and was the Suburban even involved in this strange case? John could come up with no answers, and it bothered him.....
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