The Daily Novel

CHAPTER XXV

Gene Snyder alternated between feeling silly and feeling like what he was doing was right, as he drove along Interstate 79 from Erie toward Pittsburgh. If nothing happened, nobody ever need know that he was here, except his wife. He explained everything to her including the fact that the hard data was very slim and the hunch factor was predominant.

“You would almost have to be in the room with these people and watch how their brains work,” he said. “I could not put it in a report or make an official request with what we have. So, I’m just going to have to be there. I feel like it’s my responsibility. Besides, I am absolutely certain that Harlan will be there somewhere.”

Gene left his house in Columbus, Ohio at nine. He drove a plain sedan with full communications equipment, a siren, and a portable blue light that he could slap onto the roof. He was dressed for duty: white shirt, gray suit, dark tie. He was armed and carried his identification. If the need arose, he would strike the right note as an on-duty FBI senior agent. If the need arose.

He spent the hours driving the two Interstates Harlan had mentioned. He pulled a number of full circuits of cloverleafs, peering into the centers of them. He noted the occasional minivan and checked the license plate. He didn’t get a hit. He stopped twice for the bathroom and coffee. The whole thing felt to him like a long, lonely stakeout. No one to report in to. No one to talk to. Nothing but the police, ambulance, and fire bands for this area of Pennsylvania, and even those were exceptionally quiet.

Gene was heading down Interstate 79, planning to make this the last sweep before continuing on to Pittsburgh, then home on I-70. When the radio burst out with the calls for both ambulance and police to respond to a quadrant of the Interstate cloverleaf, he knew instantly that it was Harlan. He was less than five miles north of the named cloverleaf. He lowered his window, slapped the blue light on the roof, and put his foot down on the accelerator.

When he reached the first ramp of the cloverleaf, he slowed and followed the curve around. He had to negotiate three of the curves to get to the right quadrant. As he came out of a curve, he almost collided with a blue Blazer, traveling at high speed into the next curve. He sped up to stay close to the car. The blue Blazer turned onto the target ramp, slammed on the brakes, and swerved toward the middle, just missing a beige minivan parked off the shoulder. The Blazer bounced through the dip between the shoulder and the beginning of the trees and skidded to a stop with the headlights glaring into the cloverleaf. Gene followed suit, putting his car next to the Blazer and leaving headlights and the flashing blue light on. He recognized Gloria immediately.

“Gloria,” he called, “it’s me, Gene Snyder.”

“He’s in there and Harlan’s been shot,” Gloria yelled back as she plunged into the woods. Gene followed. “Harlan, we’re coming in. Gene is here, too.”

“I see you and hear you,” Harlan said quietly. “You can slow down. Everything is under control here.”

The car lights illuminated the area sufficiently for Gloria and Gene to spot Harlan immediately. They both moved toward him. Gene’s eyes followed Harlan’s gaze and saw the figure of Jerry, slumped on the ground. Gloria’s eyes drifted down and saw Sue Ellen. “Oh, no,” she uttered.

“Hey, Gene. Really good to see you,” Harlan said. He was still holding the lantern and the camera, and the camera continued to record. “Here under my left foot you’ll find a pistol. Do you think you might retrieve it?”

“I think I’ll leave it where it is,” Gene responded. “Gloria said you were shot.”

“I think so. My butt is beginning to hurt. I think that’s where I got hit.”

“Medics should be here pretty soon. Is that the guy?”

“Gene, meet Jerry,” Harlan said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get your last name.”

Jerry looked up at the three people across from him. “Schulman. Jerry Schulman.”

Gloria was still looking at the body at their feet. “Is she dead? Are you sure?”

“I haven’t had time to check. I think she is.”

“Yes, she’s dead,” Jerry said. “The second bullet always works instantly.”

“Mr. Schulman, my name is Gene Snyder. I am an agent of the FBI and I am placing you under arrest for murder. You have the right to remain silent.” Jerry chimed in and finished the recitation of the Miranda rights and said that he did understand them.

“I needed to get that done before he started talking and telling us stuff we couldn’t use. I’d rather have let the locals get the collar, and maybe we can work something out when they get here.”

They heard sirens in the distance, approaching. Gene reached his shield folder out his breast pocket and stuck it into the front pocket on his jacket. He walked over to Jerry and stood behind him.

“Please lean over and place your hands together behind you.” Jerry complied, and Gene placed the handcuffs on his wrists. That’s when they heard the first of the arriving vehicles screech to a halt. More headlights beamed into the interior. When they heard the crashing of feet coming through the brush, Gene called out to them. “I’m Gene Snyder, FBI. The suspect is handcuffed and sitting on the ground. No one is armed, except me.”

A state trooper emerged from the trees, weapon in hand. He scanned the scene, noted Gene’s badge and the individual seated on the ground at his feet, and holstered his weapon.

“Do you happen to know how far back the medics are?” Gene asked. “That gentleman there has sustained a gunshot wound and needs attention.”

The trooper trained his light on Harlan. Under the lighting conditions and with the thermal suit being black, no blood was showing.

“Where are you hit, sir?” he asked.

“In the butt,” Harlan answered through clenched teeth. “Here, you take over the camera,” and he passed it to Gloria. She also relieved him of the light and turned it off. The area was now well lit with headlights.

“Officer, we’re also going to need a body wagon, and you need to alert the medical examiner’s office and the crime scene people,” Gene said.

“Has the suspect been arrested, had his rights read?” the trooper asked.

“Yes, he has,” Gene said. “I had to read him his rights before he started talking. Look, I don’t want or need the collar. I am more than happy for you to take it. I can tell you that this man is a suspect in at least thirty homicides and that many kidnapping charges. There are very likely degrees of rape to be considered, and I think the state statutes may be better suited to what’s coming down the road on this. He is a suspect in a number of Pennsylvania cases . . .”

“Seven bodies found and four missing persons’ bodies who lived here and wound up elsewhere,” Gloria supplied.

“There is a weapon on the ground next to Harlan’s foot,” Gene went on. “It is likely the weapon used to dispatch the victim, there, and also to wound Mr. Stone. We left it in place for the crime scene folks. Just want you to know it is there.”

“I said I was sorry,” Jerry said. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

“Harlan,” Gloria said, “are you okay?”

“It’s starting to hurt, and I think I’m stiffening up. If you wouldn’t mind grabbing the thermos, I could stand a sip of coffee.”

“Can I stop the camera?” Gloria asked.

“Just leave it running and set it on the ground,” Harlan suggested.

“Officer, can I get you to take custody of the suspect, change out the handcuffs, and re-arrest him?” Gene said.

“Yes, sir,” the trooper responded. As soon as the transfer was made, the trooper helped Jerry up and walked him out to the cruiser and helped him into the back seat. First he frisked him. He hung onto the car keys, knowing they would need them in order to clear the minivan, once the evening was over.

Gene joined Harlan and Gloria. “I think we have some phone calls to make. If you don’t mind, I’ll call Betty.” They both nodded.

“I’ll call Bobbie and you call Craig,” Gloria suggested. Harlan nodded and dug out his cell phone. Almost simultaneously, they all said “Hey, Bobbie, Betty, Craig. We got him.”

When the medics arrived, Harlan walked out to meet them at the wagon.

“I hope you all don’t mind if I slip out of this suit. I really don’t think you need to be cutting it to ribbons, if you don’t mind.” They didn’t. When Harlan got the suit off, the blood stain showed immediately, and the soaking redness extended to well below the knee on both legs.

“Okay, sir,” one of the medics said. “Now we take over. Please lie face-down here so we can see what we’ve got.” They used the scissors on the longjohns and the silk underwear, and started swabbing the blood away from the wound. Harlan was lying face-down with his head toward the rear of the wagon. Gloria emerged from the woods carrying the lantern, camera, thermos, and the Kermit chair. One corner of the chair frame was splintered.

“Looks like Kermit took the fatal shot,” Gloria said. “How are you?”

“I don’t know,” Harlan grumped. “Hey, guys, how am I?”

“It’s a crease. Bullet gouged out a trough right along the middle of the cheek. Not serious, but it will feel serious for a couple of days. We need to get you in to emergency, get you a tetanus, some prophylactic antibiotics, and either stitches or butterflies. As long as you don’t have a career in nude modeling or anything like that, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“In that case, what’s the chance you can slap a big old bandage, and I’ll see my own doctor later this morning?” Harlan asked.

“We can do that,” the medic said. “First we must formally advise you that it would be best for us to transport you to an emergency room for treatment. Then you formally decline to be transported and sign a statement to that effect. Agreed?”

They wrapped up the formalities, the medics administered a local to ease Harlan’s ride home; then they pulled out. The crime scene truck pulled in and, behind that, the body wagon. The trooper had called for backup, knowing that he would need it to handle the press, and there was no doubt that the press was on the way. He was stringing yellow tape from tree to tree, cordoning off the entire area.

“Gene, we’re out of here,” Gloria called.

Gene came over to the car. Harlan was working his way into a half-lying-down on his good side arrangement, with the back of the seat reclined about halfway. Gloria had all of their stuff stowed in the back seat, all except the coffee thermoses, and was ready to go.

“I’ve vouched for you with the trooper, and I’ll give him your vital information for his report. It will help if each of you writes a statement about what happened here. You can email it to me, and I’ll see that it gets to the right place.”

“Thanks, Gene,” Gloria said and gave him a hug.

“No, thank you, both of you,” he replied. “This is one for the record, and you know we’d never have gotten here without you. Now, are you okay to drive?”

“What, the sleepies? I don’t know when I’ll sleep again. It certainly won’t be tonight.”

As Gloria pulled away from the cloverleaf, her cell phone rang and answered automatically. She still had the earpiece plugged in. It was Bobbie, now fully awake and calling for an exclusive interview. As she started to relate the details, she heard Harlan shift in his seat, grunt, and snort, “Nude modeling, indeed.”