A blond reporter stood with her back to the sheriff’s cars, microphone gripped in her manicured hand. “Police say that Luke Palmer, released from San Quentin prison, is a drifter. The two bodies found today bring the total to three. If Palmer’s convicted of three murders, he’ll then be compared to serial killer Aileen Wuornos, another killer who used the Ocala National Forest to dispose of bodies. Now back to you in the studio.”
TV camera operators flanked both sides of the car, lens touching the glass windshields. Palmer stared straight ahead. He was an ex con now back in a police car, a ride he took more than forty years ago. And now images of his face were beaming from a national forest to a national audience.
FORTY-SEVEN
I walked over to Elizabeth while Detective Sandberg and the sheriff stood in front of the media to answer more questions. The patrol car transporting Palmer pulled away. It was preceded and followed by two other cruisers with flashing lights. Three news cars joined the end of the parade, Palmer now heading to Ocala to be questioned further and booked on murder charges.
One reporter fired a question, “Do you think Palmer is responsible for the death of Nicole Davenport, the teen found in the grave earlier?”
“We’ll compare forensics,” said the sheriff. “The answer to that question will come pending further analysis.”
“What is the condition of the deputy bitten by a snake?” asked another reporter.
“He’s been taken to the hospital. We’re praying for a full recovery.”
I went to Elizabeth where she stood by herself under a tall pine tree and watched the news conference. I told her what happened as a single tear spilled from her eyes. She used her palm to wipe it away. “Why… why did he kill Molly and Mark?”
“He says he didn’t do it.”
She looked at me through swollen, bloodshot eyes. “Do you believe him?”
“He said that there were three men. One of the three shot Molly and Mark.”
“You didn’t answer me, Sean. Do you believe him?” Another tear trickled down her cheek.
“I believe there’s a possibility he didn’t do it.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I’ve made the mistake of letting physical evidence speak louder than my gut or conscience and people have paid the price for it.”
“He’s evil and he has no conscience. He’s a cold-blooded killer.”
I said nothing.
“He’s a psychopath! Can’t you see that? This man, a person who gunned down my daughter and her boyfriend, has been running around the woods like a rabid animal. And like a sick animal, he needs to be put down. How in God’s name did he get out of prison? Why is he free? Can anybody answer that for me?” Her fists balled.
“He served his time, but I don’t think he’s free.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He didn’t try to kidnap you and Molly. And now he believes he’s heading back to spend the rest of his life in prison. But he’s not in California anymore, and the man behind the black curtain in Florida is a state-sanctioned executioner.”
“So is he! Why can’t you see that?”
“Elizabeth, listen to me, please. There are few, if any, coincidences in a crime. You almost were abducted at gunpoint by Frank Soto. Why? Why would he risk a daylight kidnapping in a crowded parking lot? There has to be a very strong reason. He’s a professional hit man, an enforcer for gangs. And right now we don’t know where he is. But before Soto tried to abduct you, he was here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Palmer said he saw some kind of Midsummer Eve festival out here in the forest. He indicated there were lots of hippie types dancing and singing. That’s where he said he met Nicole Davenport, the girl with the fairy wings that we later found in the grave.”
“He buried my Molly and Mark in another grave!”
“At this festival, Palmer described a man resembling Frank Soto, and Soto was wearing the same T-shirt that he had on the day I jumped him at your car door. That information wasn’t in any news reports I saw.”
“It doesn’t mean Palmer didn’t do it.”
“No, but it does establish the fact that Soto was here, somewhere in the heart of this forest, and he probably killed Nicole Davenport. The tattoo on his arm has a likeness to her. Maybe it’s some kind of weird souvenir. Who knows? What we do know is that he was here, and he was at your car in the shopping center. Molly and Mark were here before the episode at Walmart. It’s not a coincidence. There’s a reason, and at this point, maybe Palmer is telling the truth.”
“Take me home, Sean.”
We started for my Jeep, and she turned to me. “I respect your judgment. If you really believe this man didn’t kill Molly and Mark, will you find out who did?”
The temperature suddenly dropped, and the wind hummed through the tops of the tall pines. “Will you, Sean?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Where will you start?”
“Somewhere in this forest. I need to find out what Molly saw. And just maybe, she was killed for something she didn’t even know she saw. The first place I want to search isn’t here?”
“Where?”
“In her camera.”
I walked Elizabeth to the Jeep, and the wind blew harder. Pine needles fell from the limbs and shot through the air like darts. Elizabeth held up her hands to shield her face and eyes. Black clouds moved over the sun and lowered a curtain that wrapped the woods in darkness. The temperature dropped and the air was cold across Elizabeth’s skin. The wind moaned through the pine tops. I said, “Storm’s almost here. Let’s go!”
Two reporters approached us. One stooped to the ground the second lightning exploded by a treetop less than fifty yards from where we stood. Thunder crashed with the ricochet of a bomb. Reporters and camera people ran for the safety of their cars.
I opened the Jeep door for Elizabeth and looked at the trees bending in the wind. Somewhere in there, somewhere hidden in hundreds of square miles was the reason Molly, Mark and a kid in a fairy costume were killed. I could smell the approaching rain. Maybe in its aftermath, I could find fresh tracks in the wet ground and mud. Something would lead me to whatever lies waiting deep within the forest. But I learned long ago that sometimes very bad men left few tracks. And just when I thought I was on the right path, I’d discover that evil was following me.
I closed Elizabeth’s door and a cold, silvery rain popped on the Jeep’s canvas top.
FORTY-EIGHT
After leaving Elizabeth’s house, I picked up Max and we drove over to Ponce Marina. The closer we got closer to the Tiki Bar, the brighter Max’s eyes would shine. She stood on her hind legs in the Jeep’s front seat, poked her wet nose out the open window and sniffed the salt air.
I thought about leaving Elizabeth’s home earlier. A dozen people, neighbors and friends, came by her house in the short time I was there. Most were in tears. All were at a loss for the right words. But what are the right words when you learn someone blew a hole through a young woman’s left breast leaving an exit wound out her back the size of your fist?
Elizabeth promised me she’d stay with her sister until Frank Soto was found. She didn’t think it was necessary since Luke Palmer was in jail, her mind still wrapped around him being the killer.
Maybe she was right. But until Frank Soto was locked up, I felt Elizabeth was still in danger. Before I left, she handed Molly’s camera to me and said, “Please call me if you find anything. I don’t care what time it is, Sean, please call.”
Max whined once when we stopped in the marina parking lot, her nose now catching the smells of fried shrimp, broiled grouper and beer. We walked by the bar, and I saw Kim Davis pulling a draught beer for a charter boat captain I recognized. Kim smiled and said, “Sean O’Brien and Miz Max.” She petted Max and then looked up at me. “Sean, your face was on the news, Channel Nine, in the middle of that forest. Those college kids… what in God’s name is going on?”