Ten minutes later, I pull up in front of the Grantsville Police Department. My hands are sweaty, and my pulse quickens. I don’t know why I’m so nervous; it’s not like I’m being questioned.
I walk in and announce my name and wait. The place is dead, but that’s a good thing. Not too much happens in Grantsville. A few police officers are at their desks on computers as I tap my foot on the hardwood floor. To the right is a portrait of a smiling Gray in his uniform and his badge that reads “Chief of Police.” I know he’s proud of that photo, as his dream was always to be Chief. But it almost didn’t happen after his car accident the year before he entered the police academy.
It was a hit-and-run and if he hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt, the impact would have thrown him through the windshield. The car was going 50 mph when it ran a red light and slammed into Gray. He broke his collarbone, had whiplash and a concussion, and broke his wrist. But he survived.
A few minutes later, Gray comes to the front and ushers me to his office. I sit down across from him and watch as he furrows his brow and appears to be looking at some papers.
“I asked you down here because Troy’s autopsy revealed something only a gardener would know, and well, since you’re the only experienced one, I thought you could help.”
“Okay … “ I say, waiting in anticipation.
“We know the cause of death was arsenic poisoning; however, the medical examiner noticed he had lesions all over his body, including his face and mouth, and decided to conduct further testing. That’s when the results came up as Bloodroot.”
“Bloodroot? That’s kind of odd. I know that it can cause skin scarring if you encounter it. But it isn’t native here, only Canada and the Eastern U.S.” I’m trying to understand where he’s going with this. “But Troy could have gone where it is native and got scarred before he died.”
“Yes, but if it’s not native here and yet, his body was dumped here, he has to have died in the Eastern US or Canada and then brought here, which is pretty much impossible with border security, unless ...” he looks in deep thought. “The killer kidnapped him from the Eastern US, had the Bloodroot already in his possession, and then poisoned him here and dumped the body.”
I understand now.
“So, wherever Troy was, he came in contact with Bloodroot,” I say.
“Yeah. It just seems strange that he was poisoned with arsenic, but then he’s also scarred with Bloodroot.”
It did seem odd. The wheels start spinning in my head. “So, why did the killer go through all the trouble of taking him over the border or from somewhere in the Eastern US, poisoning him, scarring him, and then dropping his body at his ex-wife’s house?”
“There’s only one plausible explanation I can think of,” Gray says, and then I think the same thing, as I thought about it for days now.
“The killer wanted to frame Deanna,” I say, and he nods.
He puts his hand to his mouth and sighs. “Why would someone want to frame her?”
“That, Gray, is the million-dollar question.” And then, another disturbing thought entered my mind. “Maybe they used Bloodroot not just to scar him but to disfigure him, making it difficult to ID him.”
“I mean, that makes sense. He was already quite bloated and starting to decompose. The Bloodroot just helped it along,” Gray said, and I had to agree with him. “But, we can always identify bodies with dental records, too.”
Gray opens his bottom drawer and pulls out a pad of sticky notes. “Can you help me with something?”
“Sure.”
He rips one off and grabs a pen. “Can you check around and see if any nurseries or big box stores, like Lowe’s or Home Depot, got a shipment in for Bloodroot and then let me know? I can get video footage or receipt records if we can trace it to a local place. Also, check online to see if you can purchase Bloodroot. I think they had to have purchased it here and then had it shipped, which could be from anywhere. I don’t think they would have risked killing him in Canada and then driving over the border. Border Patrol would have possibly checked the car, found the plant, and even Troy.” He scribbles his cell number on one of the papers and thrusts it to me.
“Yeah, of course.” I would have to go outside of Grantsville and probably hit all of Tooele County, which Grantsville is part of, and maybe even Salt Lake City.
“Thanks, and Trice, let’s keep this between us. I don’t want it to get out and have the press swarming around.”
“Yeah, I understand.” It’s an ongoing investigation; no one will know anything until investigators have concrete evidence.
I get up and tell him I’ll keep him posted, and he nods and waves me off, returning to his paperwork.
As I head out to my car, I notice a black, older Silverado slowly go past the police station. I can’t see because of the tinted windows, but suddenly I feel a prickly sensation on the back of my neck as if someone was lightly blowing on it, and I shiver.
______________________________________________
I drive home, keeping my eyes peeled for anyone following me. When I enter my street, no one is behind, and I can finally take a deep breath.
I push the remote to open the garage door, drive in, then close it behind me. I turn off the car and sit, trying to reduce the anxiety pumping through my body. I don’t know what to text back, but I’m getting tired of these games.
I DON’T WHERE YOU LIVE OR WHY YOU’RE FOLLOWING ME, BUT UNLESS YOU REVEAL YOURSELF, I WILL GO TO THE POLICE AND TELL THEM EVERYTHING
I wait, seeing the dots on the screen, and I know they’re responding.
WHAT? I'M NOT FOLLOWING YOU - I HAVE NO CAR. I’M SORRY, I CAN’T REVEAL MY IDENTITY, OR IT COULD GET ME AND MY FAMILY KILLED. BUT YOU DON’T NEED TO FEAR ME. I’M ONLY HERE TO HELP.
Somehow, I believe them, and I calm down, now very curious as to who this is and what they know, and more importantly, if it wasn't them in the car watching me at the police station, then who was it? My heart nearly stops when I think about the figure I saw in my backyard.
Does this person know that I know something and is following me? And, If the messenger is that scared for their family, they must know more than they're letting on. I have to be very careful not to reveal anything about them, which means not even telling my best friend. They have reasons for staying anonymous, and I will continue to listen as long as I’m not in danger.
OK, I WON’T. WHOEVER YOU ARE, IF YOU HAVE ANY MORE INFORMATION TO SHARE, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO FIND THE RING BUT I WAS GOING TO GO BACK OUT TONIGHT TO CHECK.
I wait for another message as I go inside the house. Hercules is wagging his tail and I bend down and scratch his head. “Hey, Herc.” My phone buzzes again.
BE CAREFUL
THE HOUSE IS BEING WATCHED
I remember Detective Sanchez and that she’s been watching to see if the killer returns to the scene, so I don’t know how I will get over there without her seeing me.
It’s just me and Hercules since I still haven’t heard from Brock and figure he’s in court. I grab my laptop, toss it on the couch, and then head to the kitchen, realizing I’m starving. There’s leftover chicken from our barbecue last Friday, so I take it out, along with some cut-up fruit and lemonade. After heating the chicken, I take everything into the living room. Herc stays in the kitchen, whining, and I remember he hasn’t had any food today, so I go back into the kitchen and open up a can of dog food, plop it in his bowl, and fill his water bowl.
There - time to do some research.
I open my laptop and smile for facial recognition. Okay, let’s get some more information about Bloodroot. However, before I search, I want to check out my YouTube channel to see if this person possibly left me any clues.
I open up my latest video on preparing for fall planting and scroll down. I did it a few days before the discovery of Troy and see there are 650,000 views and over 2,000 comments. I sometimes respond to comments, but only the top 20 or so, or I would be on my laptop all day. I post weekly videos, sometimes more or less, depending on time constraints.
Scrolling down, I see comments about my backyard garden, where I show my fall plants starting to come up. Mums will usually bloom in early September, sometimes sooner, especially if they're in the nursery. Master gardeners usually get them to bloom earlier, in late July or early August, so they can be sold as they're blooming. It's an excellent marketing tactic, but when they return the following year in your landscape or pot, they typically won't bloom until the end of August or early September.
As I scroll down, looking for any clues or odd comments, I turn on the TV. I'm the ultimate multi-tasker. I can watch TV, surf the web on my phone, eat lunch or dinner, and think about my next video. Brock thinks I'm nuts, but then he's not a mother. When the boys were younger, I had to remember their school events, gardening classes, and grocery items. (wrote them down since there was no internet back then) While cooking, I would talk to a teacher on the phone and watch the monsters to ensure they didn't destroy the house or kill each other. Borck said he has to compartmentalize, putting things in each box so he can think straight. I just laugh at him.
I don't find anything that looks odd, so I open another tab and find a credible source that informs me that Bloodroot is only native to Canada and the Northeastern US, and apparently, in ancient times, it was used for ulcers, as a blood purifier, and for skin conditions, which I find interesting since that is what caused Troy’s scarring, but I digress. Bloodroot juice is used for sore throats and coughs. It’s an early spring wildflower, so it makes sense that Troy would have been exposed to it since he died in late spring. The next part is what stands out to me.
“The use of bloodroot as an escharotic agent in the form of a salve or paste has led to localized tissue damage and disfiguring scarring.”
So, if the killer had used Bloodroot as a salve or paste on his skin, it would have caused scarring. Were they torturing Troy? That thought makes my skin crawl. And why? I mean, the arsenic did the trick fast, so why choose Bloodroot? It doesn't make sense.
I then pull up a map of all the local nurseries to see if they sell it. There are a few places in Tooele, but I don’t see them listed for sale. I check Salt Lake City, which takes me quite some time. There are dozens of nurseries in the valley and Salt Lake County. I see one place, a small nursery located in West Valley. It would take me about 20 minutes to drive there since it’s in Western Salt Lake County, not quite as far as Salt Lake City. I grab my notepad and pen and write down the address and number. It’s open until 6:00, so I have plenty of time to grab some breakfast since it’s only 9:00 and then head over.
Gray never said to go there just to tell him if I found something, but I have some time to kill since my client meeting was canceled. It won’t hurt if I just do some window shopping, right? If I can take a few pics and get one of the workers’ names, Gray will have that much more to work with.
What could go wrong?
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