“That’s good to know.” Kane turned onto Long River and the voice on the GPS instructed him to turn into the first driveway on his left.
Bright lived in a log cabin-style ranch house in the middle of a cleared well-maintained grassy yard. Scattered wildflowers spilled across the lawn, adding a pleasant fragrance to the air. Kane parked the Beast out front. A late-model silver GMC truck was parked in a lean-to attached to one side of the house. A few other sheds and a dilapidated old barn lay toward the back. He climbed out of the truck and opened the back door to let Duke jump to the ground. The bloodhound stretched and looked up at him, wagging his tail, waiting to receive his next command. The one thing that Duke liked was to be involved in a case. Being an experienced tracker dog, his contribution to the team was invaluable. Kane reached into the back of the Beast for his forensics kit and pulled out an evidence bag. He handed it to Jenna. “There is a rag in here carrying the smell of formaldehyde. Give me a few minutes to get Bright occupied and then show it to Duke and see if he can hunt down any on the premises.”
“Good thinking.” Jenna held the bag behind her back and waited by the truck as Kane went up the steps.
The front door was opened by a man in his mid-thirties wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Neat and tidy with the fashionable stubble men wore on their chins of late, his eyes widened when his eyes traveled to the badge on Kane’s belt. Kane straightened to his full height. “Sam Bright?”
“Look, Deputy, I know I was fifteen minutes late for my parole interview, but there’s no need for you to come knocking on my door.”
Noticing the prison tattoos on Bright’s forearm and not liking the way he stuck out his chin in defiance, Kane pulled on his combat face and fixed his gaze on Bright. “This has nothing to do with checking in with your parole officer.”
“Okay.” Bright stiffened as he looked past him to Jenna. “Is that the sheriff?”
Kane nodded. “Yeah, do you mind if she lets the dog stretch its legs while we’re talking?”
“Nope, there’s not much it can hurt around here.” Bright stood to one side. “Do you want to come in?”
On full alert, Kane smiled at him, but he’d never risk turning his back on a potential psychopath. “Sure. Lead the way.”
He followed him inside a surprisingly neat family room. Bright sat down in an easy chair beside the fireplace and looked at him expectantly. His demeanor had changed significantly, from defiant to pliable. It seemed Bright knew how to work the system and pull the wool over people’s eyes. The difference between the man on the steps and now was remarkable. Kane remained standing and slowly pulled out a notebook and pen from his pocket. He took his time perusing a blank page to give Jenna as much time as possible to search the outbuildings. “I’ve spoken to your parole officer this morning and he’s given me details of the trips you made in the last week or so. Being a road driver, I assume that you deliver various vehicles to their new owners?”
“Yeah, that’s right. I drop one off and bring another back here. Sometimes they’re new vehicles. Other times I go to pick up used vehicles.” Bright’s face filled with concern. “You’re not suggesting that I’ve been carrying illegal substances between states, are you? It was hard to miss the FBI agents moving around town the last few days.”
Very astute and proves he was in town.Kane shook his head. “Nope, the two FBI agents are not with the DEA.”
He paused a beat as another change came over Bright’s disposition. Now he was having a problem sitting still. One knee bounced up and down in obvious agitation. Kane made a note in his notebook to give him time to bring himself under control. When he lifted his gaze, Bright’s effort was noticeable. A sheen of sweat had formed on his brow and the stink of fear was filling the room. He had something to hide. “How often do you pick up hitchhikers? Is it all the time or just occasionally when you get the urge to rape someone?”
“I didn’t rape her.” Bright looked at him incredulously. “Do you think I would risk my parole and go back to jail? That woman was willing. I can’t believe she reported me because she didn’t even ask me my name.”
Standing feet apart and shoulders straight, Kane leveled his combat gaze on Bright. “You haven’t answered my question. How often do you pick up hitchhikers?”
“Okay, I admit it.” Bright pushed trembling hands through his hair. “They come up to me at the truck stops and beg me to take them to the next town. I don’t like to refuse them. Don’t you figure I’m doing the right thing? Leaving them out on the side of the road is dangerous. Some of them are just kids.”
Kane’s mind was moving in all directions. This guy was a minefield of possible criminal activity. Just how many of these young women had he raped? He drove a different truck every time he went out. Even if the victim gave a detailed statement. The chances of them having his correct name or the type of truck that he was driving would be minimal. He stared at him. “Do you ever bring any of these hitchhikers home with you?”
“Yeah some.” Bright gripped the arms of the sofa, his fingers white with the pressure. “I was just being neighborly. I give them a place to sleep and a meal before they leave. There’s no law in doing that, is there?”
Kane shook his head. “Nope. Do you live alone?”
“Yeah.” Bright shrugged. “I like my privacy.”
Kane kept his attention fixed on the man. “Do you have a cellar or any other storage areas on the property?”
“You can see for yourself there are sheds and cabins all over my property.” Bright jumped to his feet and his mouth twisted into a sneer. “If you want to search them, you’ll need a warrant. I sure as heck don’t trust you.” He lifted his chin and glared at Kane. “I figure I’ve said enough already. You’ll twist everything I say and I want you to leave now.”
Kane nodded and slowly closed his notebook and pushed it into his pocket. “Not a problem. Thanks for your time. I’m sure we’ll be dropping by to see you again real soon.” He made a show of testing the slide of his weapon in and out of the holster and then, neck prickling in warning, headed for the door.