Finders Keepers

This time, he was going to use a belt and a strap. Something had to be done. She kept falling over. Why wouldn't she put her hands around his waist like he saw other girls do? If she'd just do that, she would stay put! She was quiet. Shy. That part was okay by him, but he couldn't have her falling off the back like that. It wasn't cool.

He loved to go fast. And flying across the lakes and trails with her on his snowmobile was the best feeling ever. Her long hair was shiny. And she liked his jokes, and his endless made-up stories about survival guys. She would sit patiently and watch him act them all out. It had been so long since he'd had someone to spend time with, and he'd never known the company of a woman before. And now, here she was.

He showed her all of his favorite, and very secret, hunting spots. He showed her how to skin a squirrel. He gave her his favorite rabbit hat. It fit her great, and he even mustered up the courage to tell her that she looked pretty. With her by his side, he could do anything.

Finally, he had a girlfriend.

And... he was coming unraveled.

“Okay, okay. But I'm not lonely. Once I went 44 days and I didn't see NO ONE. A true statement! Summer is more people time. But I go down to the village. Sometimes I just sit on my machine and watch the people – mostly just the girls. That is a true statement! And the girls look at me. I like that. Okay, okay, and once, I saw a license plate from Texas. It was down by the bowlin' alley. That is a true statement. Texas is a long way away, but I saw it with my own eyes, so don' even think of calling me a li-ya!” The man was rambling. Nonstop. His beady eyes darted wildly around the one room cabin.

“Yes, Texas is a long way away,” Sheriff Randall acknowledged. The calmness of his voice came from years of experience- as did his decision to keep his right hand on his holster. They were miles away from anyone and this was not a typical wellness check.

The man repeatedly nudged his thick, coke bottle glasses back into position and blinked frantically.

The sheriff lowered his voice, “But I didn't come all this way on my snow machine tonight just to talk to you about license plates, now did I Kenny?”

The man stiffened. He was looking at his boots, at the wall behind the sheriff, at the ceiling...his eyes ricocheted off the walls like ping pong balls. “I dunno what you came here for. Who's ta say? Okay, okay. But you need to tell me soon cause I got things to do. A true statement!!”

“Okay Kenny. I want us to get serious, now,“ Nathan Randall looked past Kenny, and nodded in the direction of a pink and white knit scarf that hung on a crude wooden peg, just beside the wood stove. “Why don't you tell me where you got that scarf?”

“I dunno. It's mine!! I found it!! Possession is 9/10th of the law, ya know!”

“No, Kenny, I guess I didn't know that. ”

The sheriff re-positioned himself on the tree stump that served as Kenny's dining chair. His leather belt and holster creaked and groaned as he moved. Kenny glanced at it quickly.

“Kenny?... Kenny!. I need you to simmer down and look at me. When is the last time you talked to your Mom? When is the last time you went home?”

“This is my home!!! I live here and that scarf belongs to me! Which is a true, true statement!!!!” Kenny was becoming more agitated. He curled his hands into his chest awkwardly.

“Allll right,“ Nathan soothed. The conversation was going nowhere. The late hour, the long snowmobile ride, the circumstances; the sheriff had had enough. So, with one swift movement, he stood up. Earlier, he'd radioed for the assistance of two deputies and he could now hear the familiar hum of their approaching snow mobiles.

It was time to go.

One deputy was assigned to escort Kenny French down to the station. The other was hauling an empty body sled, soon to be filled with the frozen remains of twenty year-old Daisy Theriault. She was first reported missing 6 days ago.

But Sheriff Randall had found her.

Sometime later, the sheriff and his caravan emerged from the access trail behind the station. They could see the parking lights of the Chief Medical Examiner's van as it idled patiently in the back lot and they made their way over to it.

The sheriff breathed a sigh of relief. For nearly two hours, he'd been following the sled that carried the woman's remains. With every corner and every turn, he had watched the black body bag disappear in to the void, only to pop into view again as soon as his own headlights could reconnect with her. The silhouette of her body bouncing and weaving along the pitch-black trail had made for a long and haunting ride, and he was glad to be done with it.

They parked the snowmobiles and killed the engines. There was no small talk. No banter. It was nearly 3 am and everyone was exhausted, and cold.

While the body was loaded up for its journey to Augusta, Nathan directed his deputy to bring Kenny inside. “Take him in to warm up, I'll be right there.”

After several nods and only a few words, Nathan watched as the white Maine OCME van pulled away. He arched his back for a stretch, taking in the dazzling night sky overhead. This was a precious moment of solitude. It felt good to just be still.

…Somewhere, out there, is a night off and 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep…

He imagined a warm bed, miles away from a ringing telephone. But dreaming was a waste of time and so he left his breath to hang in the air as he turned toward the station and his formal interview with Kenny French.

It was another 30 hours before the sheriff was able to escape to the locker room for the quick comfort of a hot shower and a fresh uniform. He'd called his friend and colleague, Dr. Amelia Caron, down to the station and he didn't want to be late for the meeting. He needed her council. He needed to see “normal”. As soon as she walked into his office, he felt relieved. She had that effect on him. On everyone, it seemed.

“Coffee's fresh. Help yourself.” He offered. She nodded 'no' and sat down. She was in a hurry, as usual, and she wanted to get right to it. But first, Nathan had something to say, and it was going to be awkward.

“I'm sorry about Harper. I hadn't seen you since the funeral. And I wanted to say that I'm sorry. But you did right by her, Amy. You must know that. “

Amelia nodded, stoically, as she rested her eyes on Nathan's tired face. For several seconds, nobody said a word. Nathan waited, and then she broke the silence with her outstretched hand. She was motioning for the file that he was holding, and so he handed it to her. The numbing grief of Harper's passing would have to wait. They had work to do.

“So, I hope you're saying that he didn't kill her. He's not a killer, Nathan.” Dr. Caron was expertly skimming the police file as she spoke. Her leather backpack was on the floor, slumped against her legs, in a pool of melting snow.

“Yup,” The sheriff replied. He was pouring another coffee while he waited for her to catch up. It didn't take long.

“But he does admit to zipping around with her remains tied to his snowmobile? And to keeping her body in his cabin ...?” she continued.

“Yup.” He replied again.

“And, it looks like he had the pleasure of her quiet company for, well, at least 72 hours.” She was moving through the report at lightning speed, and yet she noticed everything.

“Yup”. Said the sheriff.

“Okay, this is the part where you stop saying 'Yup’ and start filling me in on the details. I'm a busy psychiatrist, maybe I've mentioned that once or twice?”

Nathan felt himself smile, for the first time in days.

“Sure, doc. Here's what I know: Kenny was spotted over the weekend riding along with someone on his snowmobile. A woman. One sighting had him as far up as the north side of Bull Mountain. The calls started coming in Monday. That's when I took a ride up to his place to see for myself. Right away I saw her. Propped up against the wood pile. No efforts were made to conceal her. She was right there in his front yard.”

The doctor shook her head and exhaled slowly. These images had a way of sticking to her brain, and she had to be careful.

Sheriff Randall took a long pull from his coffee before continuing, “Kenny says he found her. Out by Jewell Pond, of all places. He says she was already dead and he believes, that since he found her, he 'had dibs on her'.” Nathan was making air quotes with his free hand as he spoke. “Kenny still lives by the code of a ten year-old boy. But I agree, he's no killer. Not like this. He looks terrible, by the way. You wouldn't recognize him. I've never seen him so bad. Anyway, by Monday he had to keep her outside – for obvious reasons.”

“Jewell Pond?! Now that's a haul. How the devil did she get way up there?” Dr. Caron remembered seeing the pond's location on her gazetteer once; it was just a tiny spec of blue in an ocean of green.

Nathan leaned forward, “We're working this case as hard as we can, but I can tell you, we have no viable leads. The boyfriend's been away on a job up at the...”

The doctor interrupted gently, “Call his mother, Nathan, she needs to know he's in serious trouble this time.”

“Oh I did. But she already knew. The whole town knows. News travels fast and the rumors are flying.”

Amelia nodded again, and then returned to the file. She was reading out loud,“Exsanguination? My God. She was bled to death...well, okay, that means that somewhere out there is a very large pool of blood.”

“No. That's just the thing, Doc. Bill's been up there doing aerial searches since yesterday. So far, nothing. No kill site- at least not out there. Looks like Kenny may be telling the truth. And what's even more confusing are the autopsy details. Go to page 17 and look at the photo of the victim's left wrist. Ever see anything like that before?”

The doctor studied the photo closely, angling the file to catch the morning light that had worked its' way through the dirty office window. “What in the world is that, Nathan? Not teeth marks. Maybe a..a.. puncture wound?”

“I'll be damned if I know, Amelia. I'll be damned if I know.