Secret in Whitetail Lake Page 2

  We all agreed on that one and neither Warner, nor I, had an answer. We reached the site and Warner killed the engine. Smoke planted himself in front of the sonar’s screen to watch the action. The divers rose to the surface. Carlson swam to the boat and lifted the camera. Warner bent over and scooped it up. The other two treaded water while Carlson climbed the rope ladder up to the boat, and then they followed suit.

  We were hovering over the burial grounds of two unknown people. The momentary hush in the air was our unspoken way of showing some respect. When Weber and Mason were on board, the divers pulled off their masks and shook their heads. Warner clicked on the pictures captured by Carlson. We all packed in behind him to see.

  Looking at the clouded images of the bodies inside the vehicle, I was both intrigued and repulsed by them. I’d seen bodies in various stages of decay in my career, due to a variety of circumstances, but none that looked like these bodies. It was like they’d been mummified and then had a waxy coating applied.

  “Nineteen sixty-six Dodge Charger?” Smoke said, and the blood drained from his face. His voice was quiet and a little shaky. “This can’t be. Back when I was in high school two of our classmates, friends of mine, went missing on Homecoming night. Toby Fryor and Wendy Everton. Toby’s folks had given him their old Charger to run around in. And we thought the two of them must have run away together in it.”

  The air sucked out of my lungs when Smoke said their names. I reached over and touched his arm. “I remember my mother telling me about that, how they were never heard from again. Nobody knew what happened and the whole class felt the loss.”

  Smoke nodded. “We all ran around together. Oak Lea was a smaller school back then.”

  “How long ago was that?” Warner finally said.

  “Our senior year, thirty-three years ago.”

  The unexpected twist left Weber, Carlson, and Mason speechless.

  Smoke and I fixed our eyes on each other. My mother thought Toby and Wendy were star-crossed lovers who’d decided to run away for reasons known only to them. I knew Smoke had dated Wendy for a short time. She was the one who’d helped him earn his nickname in the incident that took him from his given name of Elton, to his nickname of Smoke, in one fell swoop.

  2

  “Geez, Detective, let’s hope that’s not your friends down there,” Weber said, and the rest of us muttered words of agreement.

  There was a chance it wasn’t them.

  “Wouldn’t you think they’d be skeletons by now? These two in the car—from what it looks like are a male and a female—and still have tissue and skin,” Warner said.

  “Bodies can stay pretty much intact for years, even centuries, under the right conditions. Cold water being one,” Smoke said.

  “And inside a car like that, no fish or other lake creatures could get at them,” Warner said.

  We were quiet for a moment then Mason said, “We need to get them out of here. But we’ve never had a vehicle recovery in this deep of water before. In my time here, anyway.”

  “It’d be safe to say we’ve never had one in the department’s history, period,” Warner said. “Whitetail’s about as deep as they get in Winnebago County, and what further complicates things is having no road access on this side of the lake.”

  Weber looked at Warner. “Geez, Sergeant, that car would’ve been down there another who knows how many years—maybe forever—without you and your fancy new device.”

  “Apparently no one thought there was a reason to dredge the lake back when these people went in,” Mason said.

  Smoke released a short puff of air. “Back then? No, apparently not. Well, whether they’re our classmates, or not, they’ve been down there long enough. Let’s get them out, and figure out what we’re dealing with.” He pulled his cell phone out of its holder. “Anybody get a hold of the sheriff?”

  Warner shook his head. “I left him a message on his office phone, but he hasn’t called back.”

  “I’ll try his cell. We’ll need a tow truck with what, about a hundred yards of chain?”

  “About that. The divers will have to use extra caution after they get the vehicle hooked on. It’ll be a dangerous operation,” Warner said.

  “No doubt.” Smoke looked at the divers. “When we recovered that truck from Bison Lake last year, the one that went through the ice, were all three of you involved with that one?”

  “Yeah. That was a much easier deal, by far. It was only twenty-five or so feet out from shore in ten feet of water,” Mason answered for the group.

  “That turkey shoulda known better than to park there with that ice getting as thin as it was.” Weber was referring to the owner of the truck.

  Smoke hit a couple of numbers on his phone. “Sheriff, it’s Dawes. Call me a-sap. We’re about to launch a recovery of a vehicle on Whitetail Lake, and there are remains of at least two victims inside.” He disconnected. “Huh, Sheriff must be in an important meeting. I’ll have Communications locate us a tow truck with extra strap and connectors.” He made the call, told Officer Robin what he needed then answered her questions about what we had found.

  A few minutes later, she called back and said both Kyle and Ted, the owners of KT Towing, would be en route as soon as they loaded their rig.

  We all waited impatiently in the boat, taking turns staring at the photos of the older-model Dodge and what we could see of its occupants. Whether or not it was the missing couple from Smoke’s class, it had served as a burial ground for some time. The combined anticipation warmed the air around us. Between that and the waterproof wetsuits, the divers all had beads of sweat on their brows.

  Three cars—two squads and a sergeant’s personal vehicle—arrived on the scene in so many minutes. Word had spread from Communications to the patrol deputies like a hayfield on fire in the middle of a drought.

  “Nothing like this kind of a mystery to bring out the troops,” Warner said.

  Deputies Amanda Zubinski, Joel Ortiz, and Sergeant Leo Roth got out of their vehicles and gathered at the water’s edge.

  “You need another diver?” Roth called out from the shore. “I got my gear in my car.” Roth was off-duty, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt.

  Warner didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, suit up,” he yelled back.

  “Tim, when you go in to pick up Roth, I’ll get off the boat so Zubinski and Ortiz can go out on the next run. I’m sure they’re dying to see what you and your sonar discovered,” I said.

  “I’ll do the same,” Smoke said.

  Warner raised a hand. “Why not? This is not your run-of-the-mill find.”

  He trolled the boat in. Roth had changed in his SUV, and got out of it carrying his fins, face gear, and tank. When we reached the bank, Smoke threw the rope to Ortiz who tied it on the post. Smoke climbed out of the boat and turned to help me get on shore. “Mandy, Joel, your turn. Hop aboard.”

  Neither would have asked for the chance to view the find themselves, and their faces brightened like kids seeing lights on a Christmas tree for the first time. They nodded, and climbed into the boat before Smoke changed his mind. Roth was right behind them.

  Smoke looked at his watch. “Where in the hell is the sheriff?”

  “Call Dina, maybe she knows.” I loosened the rope on the boat, and threw it to Weber who caught it, and pulled it inside.

  Smoke withdrew his phone and dialed. After a two-minute conversation, he hung up. “She has no idea, and that is not at all like our little mother hen, Dina.”

  “No it’s not. I’ll call my personal mother hen and ask her.”

  “Yeah, if Dina doesn’t know, Kristen should.”

  My mother and the sheriff were engaged to be married sometime down the road. I figured they were waiting until all the stars and planets were perfectly aligned, whenever that might be.

  “Kristen’s Corner, may I help you?”

  “Mother.”

  “Oh, Corinne, hello. What are you up to on your day off?”

  “I’ll tel
l you about it later. Mother, do you know where the sheriff, where Denny, is?”

  “Denny? Why are you looking for him?”

  “We’re trying to reach him, and thought maybe you knew his schedule, like if he had any appointments.”

  “Why, no I don’t. He should be at work at this time of day. I talked to him earlier and he didn’t say he had anything special planned,” she said.

  “I’m sure he would have, if he did. No biggie. We figured he’s tied up in a meeting. I’ve gotta go, so I’ll catch you later.”

  “’Bye, sweetheart.”

  “Later, Mom.” I pushed the end button. “Mother doesn’t know either.”

  Smoke scratched his cheek. “I don’t think I’ll bug Dina again. She gets pretty worked up when it comes to keeping the sheriff healthy and safe. I’ll get Cindy to do a little checking. If she can’t locate him, I’ll see if I can raise him on the radio.” Cindy was one of the administrative clerks, next in line behind Dina.

  An uneasy feeling danced through me. “I hope he’s all right.”

  Smoke’s eyes captured mine. “Me, too.”

  He phoned Cindy, and was still talking when the towing team pulled up in their rig. The earth rumbled around us and the smell of diesel drifted through the air when they pulled to a stop and let the truck idle. Kyle and Ted climbed out and hurried over to us. Kyle was the half of the team who did most of the maintenance, and had grease permanently embedded in his cracked, beefy hands. He was taller and heavier than Ted who was more on the wiry side. Ted responded to the majority of the calls and gave the impression that time was money, and the faster and more efficiently he got the job done, the better.

  I pointed to where Warner and his boat crew were anchored. “That’s where that car is sitting, believe it or not.”

  “Damn, that’ll be about the biggest challenge we’ve ever had, wouldn’t you say, Ted?” Kyle said.

  Ted didn’t answer right away. He was deep in thought as he looked from Warner’s boat to the surrounding shoreline. “I’d say, all right. And there’s no good spot for us to pull in to get any closer. How in the hell did a car wind up over there?”

  Smoke finished his call and put a hand on Ted’s shoulder. “That is the great unknown. But we figured you could handle the job, if anyone could.”

  “We’ll do our best, Detective,” Ted said. “Kyle, jump in the truck and I’ll guide you to where you’ll need to stop.”

  “There’s not much of a landing here,” Kyle said.

  “Nope, but it’s what we got,” Ted answered.

  “Detective Dawes, on two.” It was Sergeant Warner telling Smoke to switch from the main radio-band channel.

  Smoke plucked the radio from his belt, turned the knob, and depressed the call button. “Go ahead on two.”

  “We’ll wait ’til KT is in position before we come in.”

  “Copy.”

  People driving by slowed down to check out the happenings on Whitetail Lake. Others that had no pressing deadline, or particular schedule to keep, pulled off County Road 35 onto the shoulders of both sides of the road.

  “This is turning into a three-ring circus,” I said.

  Smoke shook his head slightly. “Barnum and Bailey.”

  “The Ringling Brothers,” Ted added and smiled, surprising me. He’d never given any indication he had a sense of humor before.

  “People must be thinking there’s been a drowning,” I said.

  “And they are most likely right. When the drowning occurred is yet to be determined,” Smoke said.

  Kyle backed the rig closer to us, and Ted jumped to attention. He held his left hand up and bent his fingers over and over in a “keep coming” motion. Then gave him the halt sign.

  “I hope you got good brakes on that thing,” Smoke said.

  “Something we test all the time,” Ted said.

  Smoke’s phone rang. “It’s Communications,” he said when he glanced at the display. “Hey. . . . Just tell them we found an object on the bottom of the lake and we’re retrieving it. . . . Yup. . . . Thanks.” He pushed the end button and replaced his phone. “They’re getting flooded with phone calls from people wondering what we’re up to.”

  Kyle joined us by the water’s edge as Warner and company reached the landing. “Detective?” Warner said to Smoke.

  “I’ll defer to you and your divers, and the towing guys here, to make the calls,” Smoke said.

  “Excuse me, but can you tell us what’s going on here?” A middle-aged man, with skinny legs and a round belly, inched near the front of the tow truck, and pointed to one of the houses at the top of the south side hill. “I live up there and own part of this lakeshore.”

  “Sir, our water patrol spotted a large object on the bottom of the lake with his sonar, and we’re here to recover it. I’ll need you to stay clear of the area.” Smoke looked around at the other people crowding in, and added, “All of you.”

  The group shifted over to the guardrail on the inside edge of the road’s shoulder for a box office view of the action.

  Smoke focused on the crew in the boat. “Ortiz, Zubinski, change of plans. I guess I’ll need you to do crowd control.”

  They nodded, got out of the boat, and walked to the front of the tow truck. “It was fun while it lasted,” Ortiz muttered under his breath.

  Smoke lowered his voice to avoid being overheard by any of the bystanders. “Okay, Ted, Kyle, there’s an old Dodge down there. And as much as we’ve been able to see, it appears it’s been a coffin for a pair of individuals for a long time.”

  Kyle did a double take. “What’d you say?”

  “Robin didn’t say there were people in there.” Wiry Ted rocked onto his tiptoes.

  “Unfortunately, there are, and it’s not a pretty sight,” Warner said.

  “If it weren’t for that, we might not have made the decision to try this risky of an operation. And we want to keep quiet about the bodies, for the time being,” Smoke said.

  Kyle’s face was solemn when he nodded. “Understood. We should have plenty of strap and we’ll get them in.”

  Ted bounced from one foot to the other. “Why don’t you secure the D-ring shackle in your boat and we’ll unwind the strap as you drive.”

  “After we’re set up, I’ll put a diver on each side of the vehicle, at a safe distance, to keep watch. And the rescue divers will follow behind, close to the surface. It’ll be a slow process, but we’ll take as much time as we need,” Warner said.

  Smoke inclined his head toward the boat. “Corky, you go out with Warner. I’ll work on this end of it.”

  I gave him a nod and climbed into the boat. Kyle turned on the hydraulic winch, and slowly unrolled the strap. Ted grabbed it and walked it over to the boat. Weber took the strap and shackle from him, and held on.

  “How much power does that baby have?” Weber asked.

  “Pulling power of fifteen thousand pounds,” Ted said.

  “Whoa, no shit.” Weber turned to Warner. “Sarge, how many pounds you figure that car full of water down there weighs?”

  Warner plopped a hand on his opposite forearm and tapped his fingers like he was counting. “Well. The car would be around four thousand pounds, two ton. Maybe a little less. The water and silt inside of it? I’d guess there’s around five hundred gallons of water. No good idea about the silt, so let’s stick with the water weight. Who’s good at math?”

  “Mason is,” Carlson said.

  “A gallon of water weighs about eight point three pounds,” Warner said.

  Mason nodded. “Right around forty-one hundred.”

  “So we’re looking at less than ten thousand pounds of combined weight, of the vehicle and the water.”

  “We’re okay then. We want the strap to have a little stretch, but not a lot. We’ll have some resistance from the lake itself. The test will be when we pull it up on shore,” Ted said.

  “Let’s do it,” Warner said.

  Smoke released his hold on the boa
t’s tie rope. Warner gave the boat some gas and moved slowly toward the site. The strap unrolled from the winch as he did. When the car came into view, he cut the engine.

  “Okay, Weber and Carlson, I’ll have you get her hooked up. Attach the shackle to the tie rod, as close to the center as possible, then slip on the loop of the strap, and secure it. Signal when you want us to start tightening the chain. When it’s taut, give us the stop signal. Then get into position, far enough away, in case she snaps loose.

  “We’ll wait until you’re out of the way before we start the tow. Roth you’re with Weber, Mason you’re with Carlson. Signal us to stop if you notice any part of the operation going south. The car is facing west, so we’ll need to get it turned to the north. Any questions, comments, concerns?” Warner said.

  “I got a concern. When they turn the car, it’s going to stir up that muck on the lake’s bottom,” Mason said.

  “Good point. We’ll go as slow as we can to minimize that. Okay, Carlson you take the south side of the car, the driver’s side. Weber, you take the north. Let’s get this operation underway.”

  The four of them pulled on their face masks and jumped in. Weber took the strap, and Carlson took the shackle. The divers lowered themselves into the water and we watched the action on the screen. Weber and Carlson worked for a while to attach the strap. When it was secured, Weber gave the sign to start tightening the chain.

  Warner depressed the talk button on his radio. “Six eleven, Three forty on two.”

  “Go ahead on two,” Smoke answered.

  “The strap’s in place and we’re ready for a slow and easy shortening of the line.”

  “Copy.”

  “I’ll put my arm up when it looks like they’re getting close, and drop it when the divers tell me to stop,” Warner added.

  “We’ll keep a close watch.”

  I held my breath and kept my eyes peeled to the screen. When it appeared the chain was losing the last of its slack, Mason waved his hand back and forth as a “slow down” signal. Warner stuck his hand in the air then dropped it like a lead balloon when Mason’s hand shot up to stop. Ted’s reflexes were spot on. He halted the winch’s pull, but there was a slight jerk on the car nonetheless.