The Night Monster_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [74]
“Why not,” I said.
I folded my phone and rose to my feet. Sitting still was not an option. I had to do something or I’d go crazy. Mouse and Lonnie had departed in a hurry, and hopefully left some clues as to where they’d gone. I headed back to the clearing in the forest.
I did a quick search of the area. It was filled with crudely made animal traps, which I quickly disarmed. Mouse and Lonnie had left the tarp, a couple of half-finished cans of soda, and a bag of trash. I dumped the trash onto the ground and poured through it. A receipt from a florist named Nell’s caught my eye. They had spent thirty dollars for flowers, and I wondered what they were for.
I checked the time. Twelve minutes had passed since I’d called 911. I needed to walk down the dirt road to 27, and flag down the police, who wouldn’t be able to find this place otherwise. As I started to leave, I called for Buster. No response.
An uneasy feeling came over me. Had Buster stepped into another trap? I called again. To my relief, I got a loud Yip! in response. Buster only yipped when he found something that he didn’t want to part with.
I followed the sound through the forest to another clearing. My dog lay on his belly in the dirt. He was clearly pleased with himself, and his tail thumped the ground.
“What did you find, boy?”
Next to Buster’s feet was a bouquet of freshly cut carnations. Half were red, the rest white. I picked them up, and saw they were resting on a pile of small white rocks. Someone had put the rocks there, and I wanted to know why.
I took the top rock off the pile. Lying beneath it was a thin gold chain. I gently pulled the chain free from the pile. Hanging from it was a gold crucifix.
I swept the remaining rocks aside. Lying at the bottom of the pile was a laminated card covered in dirt. I cleaned the card on my pants leg and stared. It was a Florida driver’s license for a woman named Kathi Bolger.
“What the hell,” I said.
Bolger’s head shot was on the card, as was her weight, height, and DOB. Born June 9, 1969, she stood five foot ten, and weighed one hundred and sixty pounds. The photo showed a pretty blond with expressive eyes, and sun streaks in her hair.
My hand shook. Bolger’s profile was the same as Mouse and Lonnie’s other five victims. Young, pretty, and of good size.
I looked at the gold crucifix hanging in my other hand, and the white rocks spewed across the ground. Then it clicked what Buster had found.
It was Bolger’s grave.
CHAPTER 36
s I walked toward 27 to meet the police, I realized who Kathi Bolger was.
Kathi Bolger was the oldest open missing person case in Broward, and had gone missing in 1990. I’d reviewed her file as many times as Naomi Dunn’s. Like Dunn’s case, the details of what had happened to Bolger were etched in my brain.
Bolger had lived by herself in an apartment near Bonaventure. Enrolled at the local community college, she’d held down several part-time jobs to pay tuition. She had a boyfriend, and got along well with her family. Her life was normal, except the fact that one day she’d vanished off the face of the earth.
The Broward cops had conducted an extensive manhunt. Dogs, horses, choppers, and an army of volunteers had searched for Bolger. Not a trace of the young woman had been found. Not even her car had been located. In that regard, her case was different from Dunn’s. There was no evidence in the Bolger case to suggest foul play. She had simply vanished, something that happened to dozens of people in south Florida every year. Because of that, I had not considered her a possible victim in this case, but now I knew better. Bolger had been Mouse and Lonnie’s first victim.
I came to a padlocked gate at the end of the road. I hoisted Buster over, and climbed over myself. Standing next to Highway 27, I looked both ways. Not a car in sight.
I took Bolger’s license from my pocket, and studied her photo. She’d gone missing at the same