Stacey was beginning to wonder if anyone would pick up. “Hello,” a female voice answered after several rings. “Can I speak to Detective Derickson?” There was a long silence. “Are you a family member?”
“No, I work with him,” Stacey replied. “Is he in?”
“No, he isn’t. Can I take a message?”
“Is Dianne in?” he persisted.
“Can you hold a moment? Let me see if I can transfer you.”
Barker and Olsen strode to the captain’s office. “We have a problem, captain,” Barker said. “We’re missing some evidence.”
“What do you mean, missing?” He seemed irritated by the lack of information.
“We made a count like you asked. We’re missing bags ten and 31.”
“Who signed them out?”
“That’s the problem, sir. No one signed them out,” Barker said, contritely.
“Olsen, would you step out? I need to talk to the lieutenant a minute.”
Officer Olsen sidled out and pulled the door closed behind him. Stacey was growing impatient. Finally someone answered. “Surgery waiting room.”
“Is Mrs. Derickson in?” he asked.
“Mrs. Derickson?” The voice could be heard asking the others in the room. “Mrs. Derickson,” he heard again. “I’m sorry, no one answers by that name.”
“Can you connect me back to room 312?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m just a visitor here. I don’t know how.”
Stacey hung up the phone and started again. The operator answered. “Can you connect me with the nurses’ station on the third floor?”
“Station three, Nurse Powell.”
“This is Officer Stacey, and it’s very important I talk to Detective Derickson or his wife. Will you connect me, please?” Stacey’s tone left no room for argument.
“Let me see if I can locate Mrs. Derickson. Can you hold a moment?”
“I’ll wait.” He glanced at his watch. He could never make Vegas by one now.
“I saw Stacey coming out of the evidence room yesterday, alone. Did you lend him your key?” Bingham wore a very serious expression on his face.
“Yes, sir.” Barker had known better.“I didn’t think anything of it until now. Was he the last one in the room before you and Officer Olsen logged in?”
“Yeah, according to the log. I promised him I’d sign him out as soon as I got a chance,” Barker explained. “I forgot completely about it until I saw the blank space just a minute ago. I signed for him when Olsen and I went in.”
“Did Olsen see you sign him out?”
“Yes, sir, he did.”
Bingham pointed toward the room, his instructions emphatic. “You and Olsen go back and tear that room apart. I can’t believe Officer Stacey would have anything to do with this.”
“Officer Stacey, I’ve located her. I’ll try to connect you now,” the nurse said. The phone rang twice and was picked up. Stacey didn’t recognize the solemn voice that answered.
“I’m looking for Mrs. Derickson.” A sickening feeling had begun to turn his stomach to knots.
“This is the hospital social worker. Can I tell her who’s calling?”
Stacey knew now that something was terribly wrong. He could hear sobbing in the background. “Yes. This is Rick Stacey. I’m a close friend of the family.”
“One moment. I’ll see if she can talk to you.”
Listening to soft voices, too quiet to hear, he waited before she spoke.
“Rick. Something’s happened,” Dianne said. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Deek passed away on the operating room table a few minutes ago.” The sobbing resumed.
Stacey was stunned. How could that be? He’d talked to Deek less than a day ago. He was doing well. “What happened?”
Dianne tried to regain her composure but couldn’t stop crying long enough to get out a sentence. He heard her finally say, “Would...you...tell him?” The social worker got back on the line and quietly explained the details.
“Last night Detective Derickson started to run a high fever, which the doctors couldn’t seem to control. His blood was found to contain an elevated white count, indicating an infection. Several more tests were taken. But before they could get him into surgery to see if there was a problem with the sutures, he slipped into a coma. During the operation, he went into full cardiac arrest, and passed away less than half an hour ago. Mrs. Derickson hasn’t even told her own family yet. Several of her children are here with her.”
Stacey, in utter shock, hung up the phone. This complicated an already worsened situation. It was too unreal. The captain would be up for murder charges if he could prove Deek’s theory. Now it’d be almost impossible. And what would happen to Deek’s family? He glanced at his watch again. He had about an hour and a half to travel two hundred miles. Even if he sped he could never make it. He decided to call the captain and tell him he wouldn’t be on time, and to inform the office of the terrible news.
“Mapleton City Police. Is this an emergency?”
“Maryann, this is Stace. Is the captain in?”
“He is, but something’s wrong. He’s in the evidence room. He, Barker and Olsen are tearing the place apart. Where are you? The screen says Beaver.”
“I am. The captain sent me to Vegas to interview a potential witness.”
“That’s odd,” she said under her breath. “He’s been trying to reach you on the radio.”
Something was wrong; the captain knew exactly where he was. “Maryann, listen. Deek’s dead. I just talked to Dianne at the hospital. Don’t tell the captain I called unless you’re asked. I don’t have time to explain.” Stacey hung up the phone before Maryann could reply. He returned to the car to think. What was Bingham up to? The box in the trunk, he thought. Opening it, he carefully lifted the lid from the box. Several empty file folders covered the main contents of the box— which, he discovered, was a kilo of cocaine. He realized then, in disbelief, that he’d been set up. How could it have happened? Deek’s dead, and now no one has a clue I’ve been investigating Bingham for the shooting. He was in serious trouble. How much does the captain know? Why does he want me in Vegas? I’ve got to figure it out.
Back at the station, Maryann wasn’t sure she had heard Stacey right. How would he know Deek was dead? Why was he in Beaver? She needed to find out about Deek first. She called the hospital while the captain and the two other officers exhausted their search of the evidence room. Two kilos were definitely missing.
“Lieutenant, we need to locate Officer Stacey. It seems we have a few questions for him,” the captain said calmly.
“I’ll go by his place and see if he’s there,” Barker offered. “No, I think I’ll drop by and see for myself. If he’s there, I need to
Maryann had little success finding Dianne. She, too, was transferred from one place to another. Several nurse stations later, she had no more information than when she’d started.
Stacey returned to the phone, removed the small notepad from his shirt pocket, and dialed the number.
“Provo Crime Lab.”
“Saunders, please.”
“This is Saunders,” chirped a monotone voice.
“Saunders, this is Officer Stacey. How did the test results turn out on the Derickson evidence?”
“Like I told your Captain Bingham this morning, we have a positive match on the gun and the fibers. No prints were found on the gun.”
“What time did he call?”
“Must’ve been first thing.”
Stacey hung up the phone. Bingham must have talked to Mrs. Reid, too, he mused as he picked up the phone and dialed the station.
“Mapleton Police.”
“Maryann, Stace, here. Did the captain ask you about the call you looked up for me?”
“Yes, he did. What’s this all about?”
“I can’t explain now. Is he in?”
“No, I think he’s gone to your house to see if you’re there.”
“Is Barker in?”
“I think so. Want to talk to him?”
“Yes, please....”
“Lieutenant Barker.”
“Barker, Stace—”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Beaver on my way to Vegas. The captain sent me down to interview a witness. I’ll bet you’re missing a kilo of cocaine.”
“Two; we’re missing two kilos. You were the last one in the evidence room with my key. What’re you up to?”
“Listen, Bingham’s trying to frame me. He put one of them in my car this morning. I think I’m in serious trouble. I can’t explain it now. I need your help.”
Barker sounded resigned. “I don’t know if I can help you much. You’d better come in.”
“I can’t. I know too much and not enough at the same time. I’ll talk to you when I can. Why the sudden interest in the cocaine?”
“Bingham asked me to count it.”
“Why would he ask such a question. We all know we took 76 kilos in the bust.”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question,” replied Barker.
“Tell the captain I’m late getting to Vegas. I’ll bet he puts an APB out on me—or worse. You know me. I didn’t steal any of the stuff. And Deek’s dead. That turns the shooting into murder.”
Stacey hung up, leaving Barker in a state of confusion. He didn’t have a clue what Stacey was talking about. Maryann had told everyone Deek was in surgery. He walked up front and asked, “Where did Stace call from?”
“Beaver. What in the world’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve got to find out. He told me Deek’s dead.”
“I’ve been trying to find out about that, too. I can’t get through.”
“Keep trying. I’ll run over to the hospital.” He left the room. “One twelve, one ten.”
“One ten, go ahead, lieutenant,” the captain responded.
“Captain, we got a call from Stacey. He said something about being late.” Barker was careful with his words.
“Where did he call from?”
“He said he was south.”
“Dispatch, can you give me a location?”
“The call came in from a pay phone in Beaver.”
The captain’s breathing could be heard above the radio’s static. “Did he say anything else?”
“No.” Barker played along. “He seemed to be in a hurry.”
“Maryann, contact the Utah Highway Patrol and have them bring in Officer Stacey. Tell them he’s somewhere between Beaver and Las Vegas. We need to talk to him about two missing kilos of cocaine,” he commanded as he pulled up in front of Stacey’s apartment.
Stacey drove west on State Road 153. He’d been through the area once with his father many years before. He could go north to Delta, then double back south to Holden. Grandma still lived in Fillmore. He could leave his squad car hidden there and borrow her car. She didn’t drive much anymore. Traveling the old state roads would be the long way around, but no one would be looking for him there. And anyway, he hadn’t seen his grandma for almost a year, and she’d be happy to see him. She’d keep his visit a secret, if he asked her to— he was sure of it.
The captain, now wearing latex gloves, opened the car door and made his way to the apartment. Finding the front door locked, he took a pick set from his pocket. Being a little rusty, it took him almost a full minute to get in. Sig was barking furiously from inside the garage. Bingham glanced around and quickly walked the rooms to find a most likely hiding spot. Nothing seemed to stand out. He entered the kitchen, opening the cupboards one at a time. In one he found a sealed plastic dish. Taking the wrapped and sealed bag out from under his shirt, he carried both to the bathroom. With a stroke of his knife, he slit open the bag and emptied half its contents in the toilet, then flushed it down. Next he folded the bag and stuffed it in the container, before putting on the lid. Hurrying back to the kitchen, he jammed the container in the back of the cupboard and closed the door. In less than four minutes he’d entered, deposited the evidence, and left the premises. All the while Sig was barking like crazy. He could see the dog’s face in the window of the garage as he drove away.
Barker arrived at the hospital and went straight to Deek’s room. He noticed the bed was missing. He proceeded to the nurses’ station and spoke with the first nurse he saw. “I’m Lieutenant Barker from the Mapleton Police Department. Can you tell me where I can find Detective Derickson?”
She looked at him, then back at an older woman who sat at the desk. The woman stood and introduced herself. “I’m the head nurse on this unit,” she said calmly. “Can I help you?”
“I need to know the condition of Detective Derickson,” he insisted again.
“I’m sorry, lieutenant. I don’t think I can tell you at this time—” she tried to say.
“Listen. I’m in the middle of a possible murder,” he snapped, “and I won’t tolerate you sidestepping my questions. Is he alive?”
“No, he’s not. He passed away an hour ago on the operating table. His family is still being notified.”
Barker fairly blew his stack. “He was shot in the line of duty,” he roared, “so we should have been informed immediately!” Then, calming slightly, he asked, “Where’s his wife?”
“She’s probably with a social worker in one of our counseling rooms on the second floor.” This time she readily provided the information. Barker could hardly believe it. In the history of the city police department they’d never had an officer killed.
“I’ll have Nurse Sorenson show you the way,” the head nurse said. Barker nodded and the two of them walked toward the elevator.
Don and Cecily stopped for lunch. Several of the employees Don hadn’t even met seemed to smile in a friendly way. There was nothing special in the brown bag, but he wasn’t very hungry anyway. Besides, lunch didn’t seem as good when he prepared it himself. The conversations were light, though everyone still seemed to know something Don didn’t.
Stacey raced toward Delta, having made the turn onto Highway 257 some 20 minutes earlier. While passing through Milford he devised a plan that might get him home without a hitch. Dealing with the other problems, though, wouldn’t be so easy. His father used to take him to the lava fields when he was young, so he knew they were just outside Fillmore. A number of miles outside town was a cave large enough in which to hide the car. It was a remote region, yet was within walking distance of his grandma’s house. He could be there before dark, if all went well.
The flood of information—and misinformation—kept playing in his head. He needed not only to prove the captain was dirty but, at the same time, stop the abductor of the girls. Contacting Officer Green in Virginia was important, too, but using his calling card was now out of the question. And there were other hurdles to overcome. The captain wanted him out of the picture, and he believed Bingham would go to any length to dispose of him. In fact, now he was sure of it.
Barker paused outside the door of the counseling room. He could hear the sniffles of the children coming from within. He and Deek’s family were close. It wasn’t going to be easy to see them in their grief.
Barker eased the door open. Deek’s five-year-old was standing in the middle of the room, looking up at his siblings and mother. Dianne was on the phone. Her eyes were swollen and red. The little redheaded son, Austin, only two, sat slumped in her lap, in total confusion. Dianne seemed to be somewhat under control as she informed the person on the other end about the terrible events of the past few hours. She glanced up as Barker entered, and her expression changed as she abruptly ended the call and hung up the phone.
“That was Maryann, I just called the station to let everyone know.” Barker approached and opened his arms. She seemed so alone. Both her family and Deek’s were from out of state. His parents had visited a few days earlier and then returned home when he seemed to be doing so well.
“I’m so sorry,” Barker told her. The children watched them. “Stace told me fifteen minutes ago. I came as soon as I heard,” he said. She began to sob again. The children added to the tears. Barker just held her as she trembled with grief.
The captain returned to the station and placed a call to the prosecuting attorney. “ ...We think we have enough evidence to sustain a search warrant....I’d never have believed it myself. He’s been an exemplary officer....No, he hasn’t been in all day. We think he may be on his way to Las Vegas....No, we don’t have enough on him to make an arrest, that’s why we want the warrant....See what you can do. We have the highway patrol looking for him now.” He concluded his call. Bingham wanted the evidence and dog taken care of as soon as possible.
Stacey made good time. He didn’t travel so fast as to draw attention to his speed, neither did he travel the speed limit. He made the turn outside of Delta and traveled south on Highway 50 toward Holden. The next ten or 12 miles, until he reached Fillmore, would be the most risky. He guessed that by now every trooper in the state would be on the lookout, though he hadn’t picked up anything on the police scanner. He felt like a criminal on the run. What’s more, his car stuck out like a sore thumb. But with any luck, no one would pay attention.
It didn’t take long for a “halo zone” to form around him—a ring of cautious, light-footed drivers that naturally forms around a police or highway patrol vehicle. A few brave drivers had enough courage to go around him, just creeping past at a little over the 75-mph limit.
At last, the exit was in sight. Stacey turned off the interstate and drove west to the lava fields. The area was pockmarked and littered with jagged, weird-shaped rocks. It looked more like the surface of the moon. Giant craters and huge boulders were scattered among the debris. He wondered if he could find the caves, it having been over ten years since his last visit. Only a very few of the locals knew the caves even existed.
After nearly an hour, he finally stumbled across the large, shallow cave he best remembered. For hundreds of years sand had blown off the dusty fields from the west, creating maneuverable paths down to its entrance, which was big enough to park a semi truck. Pulling the car into the shadows at the far end of the cave, he took the sawedoff shotgun from the console, opened the trunk and removed the file box, into which he placed the keys to the cruiser. He then carried the box to an adjacent cave some 50 yards farther west. Once inside the smaller cave, he located an offshoot that ran at an angle down into the rock, hid the box and gun under several pounds of loose rock and began the eight-or nine-mile walk to the childhood home of his father.