Authors: John McEvoy
The agents collected Jack early that evening outside his condo. He came out carrying a small portable cooler. “Hi, folks. I've provisioned us with a few necessities. Bottled water, some nice Italian subs from my favorite deli around the corner, a thermos of caffeinated coffee, and a can of bug spray.” He put the cooler next to him on the backseat.
Damon drove. Dealing with the rush hour traffic, it took them nearly two hours to reach Rockland College where they met their eager informant Randy Meier outside the Large Animal Barn. He was a strong-looking young man, biceps bulging in his cut-off Rockland Athletic Department tee-shirt. He told them where to park and walked them to where he suggested they set up observation posts around the perimeter of the paddock. The only horse in that enclosure was Saint Lester. The tall gray gelding paid them no attention.
“I have to bring Saint Lester back into his stall in the barn right before it gets dark,” Meier told them.
Karen said, “Just do what you usually do, Randy. Follow your ordinary routine.”
Damon had quickly made a small sketch of the paddock area in his notebook. The first tentative drops of rain splotched it. He'd marked positions in the trees for each of the three of them. “Randy, don't come out to take that horse in for a couple of hours, okay? Just wait in the building and keep your eyes open.”
“Yes, sir.” Randy jogged away.
“Ah, Damon, sir,” Doyle said, “perhaps I should position myself back in the car. Next to the cooler. Guarding the sandwiches and coffee.”
Tirabassi didn't bother to reply. He walked to where he had planned to be. Karen said, “C'mon, Jack. Let's get this done.”
Shortly after eight-thirty, the rain clouds let loose lightly. Doyle was belly-down on a plastic sheet partly under a dripping blackberry bush, some thirty yards from Karen to his left, Damon to his right. He'd used his cell phone to check his e-mail, the Cubs score (another heart-breaking loss in the ninth inning), the day's racing results from Heartland Downs. Then the rain picked up and there was the sound of distant thunder. “Oh,
great
,” he muttered. He pulled his ball cap farther down on his head. Felt raindrops starting to hit his jacket.
At nine thirty, the three of them watched as Randy, wearing a yellow rain poncho, came out from the barn, put a lead rope on Saint Lester's halter, and led him back. Doyle and the agents stood up, stretched, and left their hiding places.
“What now, Damon?” Doyle said.
“I'm thinking that the person Randy saw reconnoitering here yesterday afternoon may well come back. Not for a paddock kill, like that last one over in Michigan, but maybe sneaking into the Large Animal Barn. We know that's been done before. I say we wait here for a couple of hours. Somebody's been here that Randy saw. I got a feeling about this. I think we should stick here. What do you think Karen?”
“As long as we're out here, why not? Jack, you okay with this?”
“What if I weren't? I haven't seen any cabs going by here.”
Damon said, “Let's get out of this rain.” A few minutes later, Randy Meier joined them in Damon's car, seated in the backseat with Jack. “My shift is through now,” he said, “but if it's okay with you I'll hang around for awhile.” Doyle offered him the last of the sandwiches, which was gratefully received and rapidly consumed. Between bites, Randy said, “Harry Schwartz, the old guard who replaces me, is already in the barn, probably asleep in the little office. Like usual about this time.”
Karen said, “Randy, you didn't tell him we were going to be here tonight, right?”
“No, no.” He grinned. “If you think old Harry might be involved, and I can't even imagine that, I didn't give him any heads up. Just like you told me not to do.”
Damon turned to look into the backseat, nodding in approval.
It was almost ten when Randy said, “If you don't mind, I've got to bail. And⦔
Doyle poked him in the ribs. “Bail. Oh, my young friend, not a word to be using in the presence of law enforcement personnel.”
Meier grinned, but Damon snarled, “Cut the humor, Doyle. Go on, Randy. You can leave. Thanks for your help.”
“It's just that I've got to be in the football team's weight room at six tomorrow morning.”
Karen said, “Understood, Randy. If we get anything out of this, we'll surely let you know.”
“Even about, like, that possible reward?”
Damon grunted, “Yes, son, even about that.”
Doyle grinned his approval. “Randy, keep your eye on the prize. So long.”
“Thanks for your help, Randy,” Karen said. “Good luck with your football season.”
As Meier opened his door he said, “Can I suggest something? Pull your car over there in that real dark tree-covered spot next to the back fence. You'll be able to see both the north and south barn entrances from there. Even through this rain.”
Damon got out and shook the young man's hand. Back behind the wheel, he slowly drove to the spot Meier had recommended.
The rain persisted. Doyle dozed off a couple of times as the hours went by, always to awaken and see the agents intently peering at the barn. Just after one-thirty, Karen suddenly sat forward. “
Did you see that?”
“See what?” Doyle said.
“Looked like a flash of light on the north side the barn.”
“Saw it,” Damon said. “Let's go. Karen, take the south door. You've got one of the keys Randy gave us. Jack, come with me to the north door. I've got the key to that one.”
Karen entered the barn first from the south side. Opening that door, she startled the napping guard Harry Schwartz who almost fell off his chair. She flashed him her badge. “Quiet,” she whispered. “Everything's all right. Just stay right here.” She didn't look back as the old fellow struggled to his feet.
Damon keyed open the barn's north door. He hesitated for a moment and pulled out his Glock 22 before entering. Jack yanked his arm. “What are you doing with that weapon? You think some armed maniac is in there?”
Damon brushed aside Doyle's hand. “Standard procedure, Doyle. Bureau's rules in situations like this. Shut up. Let's go in quietly.” Damon carefully stepped inside, Jack at his back. Some thirty yards from them down the concrete corridor that led between stalls they saw a slim figure clad in jeans and jeans jacket and dark ball cap pulled down low standing directly in front of Saint Lester's stall.
“Hold it right there,” Damon shouted as he ran forward. The invader jumped back from Saint Lester, dropping a syringe onto the concrete floor. Karen sprinted forward from the south door, the old guard Harry stumbling along behind her.
Doyle put his hand on Damon's pistol arm and the agent lowered the weapon as they neared Saint Lester's stall with his visitor before it. Jack stepped forward. He saw a frightened, familiar face.
Well, I'll be damned
, Jack thought.
“Well, hello, Esther Ness,” he said.
Esther Ness slumped to her knees, head down in her gloved hands. Karen ran up to join them, stopped, and said, “Jack, who is that?”
“None other than Ms. Esther Ness, well-known heiress and animal rights activist.”
Karen turned to the half-awake and completely bewildered guard standing behind her. “Harry, please take a break for awhile. Go outside. It's stopped raining. We'll handle this.” Harry shuffled away.
Esther finally looked up at her three captors and stopped her brief sobbing. Her face was streaked with tears, but her eyes were defiant. “I'm not sorry about what I did,” she said, looking directly at each of them. “You'll never understand that.”
Doyle stepped forward, took Esther by her elbows, and gently lifted her to her feet. She shook off his hands.
Damon holstered his Glock. He took latex gloves from his jacket pocket, bent down, and picked up the syringe Esther had dropped. Karen handed him a baggie. Jack watched Esther, head down, trembling, suddenly deflated, being led by Karen to the office at the south end of the barn. He shook his head as if to clear out the conflicting thoughts he had, the joy of discovery, tempered by his surprise at the person discovered. “I never figured Esther for this,” Jack said to Damon. “Thought that even if she was involved in this campaign, she'd be too smart to be hands-on.”
Jack noticed the broken window on the right wall that allowed Esther to gain entrance to the barn. A trio of observant Holsteins watched him walk past, then residents of a two-sheep pen on one side, a pair of curious Kinder goats on the left. Back at the other end of the barn, as rain now pounded down on the resonating roof, Saint Lester let out a series of loud whinnies as Doyle passed him.
Esther was placed in a chair in front of the guard's desk, Damon seated behind the desk, Karen and Jack on the sides. Damon said, “It was you all along and you all alone, wasn't it? All five previous horse-killing crimes. Will you admit to them here and now? Now that we've caught you trying to add another one to your list?”
Esther sat up straight, eyes blazing. “
You
consider them crimes. I do not. I love horses. Throughout my whole life, they've been what I've gone to in order get relaxation, peace of mind, no matter what was happening to me otherwise.” She paused, took a deep breath. “Horses have given me
so
much! But what is being done to defenseless horses in places like this, in these so-called research facilities,
that's
what I consider to be crimes. That's what I wanted to stop!”
“Well, Ms. Ness,” Damon said, “that's not what the law says.”
There was a rap at the office door. Karen opened it. Harry the guard stood there, hat in hand, with a question. “Can I get off duty now?” Karen nodded before ushering him back out the door. Watching them leave, Doyle said, “With that lazy old dolt on duty, I'm surprised rustlers haven't come in here and emptied the place.”
Damon assumed command. “Ms. Ness, stay right where you are. I am going to consult with my colleagues.” He motioned Karen and Doyle to follow him out into the corridor.
“Doyle,” Damon said angrily, “did you suspect this woman was the killer? I'd like to know right now!”
“Oh, Damon, c'mon, man, loosen that knot in your government shorts. I'll say, yeah, the
thought
of her being involved crossed my mind a couple of times. Tell you the truth, I was more worried about discovering Ingrid McGuire as the perp. A couple of times, when I looked back on it, I thought Ingrid seemed to know maybe a little too much about the killings before we talked about them. I mean, in advance of me saying anything. But I was just plain wrong about Ingrid being involved. For which, may I add, I am grateful.”
Doyle walked off a couple of yards toward the mean-looking Kinder goat who produced a loud warning bleat. “Calm down, old fella,” Doyle said, patting the animal's broad black nose.
Harry Schwartz suddenly reappeared in the doorway. “I forgot to take my sandwich,” the old guard said. “Can I get it from the office?” Damon said, “Go ahead. Don't say anything to the person in there.” Schwartz quickly emerged from the office, carrying a grease-stained brown bag. He said, “Don't forget to leave the lights on low like I usually do. “Fine, sir. Thanks for your assistance,” Damon said.
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Damon writing in his notebook, Karen texting their Bureau office, Jack taking deep breaths. Esther had her head down, hands covering her ears. Doyle thought she appeared to have lost weight since he'd seen her at her farm weeks before. Perhaps her ill-advised campaign had taken that kind of toll on her.
Damon finally said, “You're in a serious jam here, Ms. Ness. Karen, go ahead.” Karen read the Miranda rights. Esther listened, then looked up. She said softly, “I have feared this day for months. Even after I became determined to go forward after the first horse death. Obsessed with thinking about all the other horses held captive in these vet schools that needed me.”
“Esther,” Jack said, “you've got me buffaloed here. Didn't
you
donate a couple of your own horses to these schools? Isn't that right?”
“I made a foolish mistake when I did that. I thought it would be a good, a useful thing. But when I went to visit the horses I'd donated, and saw how they were subjected to these research projects, these indignities, I was repelled. I attempted to retrieve them from those schools. I found that could not be done without a long legal battle because I had signed over ownership to the schools involved.”
She paused to look at her three captors, one by one, before saying, “I realized I could not quickly retrieve them, so I decided to put my horses out of their miserable existences. And later,” she said forcefully, “others like them. I have no regrets that I did so.”
Karen said, “Ms. Ness, surely you must have been aware you were breaking laws.”
“Yes
, laws that cried out to be broken. But as I went along, it got harder and harder for me. I knew I was being hunted. Jack Doyle inadvertently kept me informed about the investigation's progress when he questioned me at my farm. Or lack of progress at that point. But I was aware of the great efforts that were being put into it. And,” she said, looking directly at Doyle, “guilt was eating away at me. I knew how determined you were to find me.”
Doyle thought about saying to the agents, “That's what I do for you, throw fear into the hearts of wrongdoers,” but decided not to.
“And the pressure kept building,” Esther said. “I started having nightmares about being caught and sent to prison. So, I made an attempt to throw anyone off my trail. That's why I offered the reward. That was an attempt to divert any possible attention from me. Still, I could feel the pressure building.
“That is why I finally decided that after this one, Saint Lester, I would stop. Permanently. I just couldn't live any longer with that growing pressure.” She hesitated before adding, “You probably don't believe me. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But I swear to God that's how I felt. I was never going to do it again.”
Damon said, “Ms. Ness, we're going to have to take you downtown now. You can call a lawyer now, or in the car, or when we get to our office. Up to you.”
Doyle held open the north barn door for this somber group. The rain had finally stopped, and this part of rural Illinois smelled refreshingly clean beneath the star-strewn sky. Karen reached up to flick away a few mosquitoes that were advancing, and Esther Ness nodded a thank you. “You can sit in the front seat with me, Ms. Ness. No handcuffs, just the seatbelt if you would. Let's go.”
Jack said, “So, Damon, what'll happen with Ness?”
“How would I know, Jack? She hasn't been even booked yet. Arraignment is the next step, then a bail hearing.”
Jack said, “Okay, how about an educated guess. Would this woman be facing prison time?”
“Jack, I don't know what's coming for Ness. I got enough to deal with tonight, wrapping up this arrest.”