Page 82 of Solid as Steele
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Thankful Sierra had finished processing his truck, Owen pulled the vehicle into Leach’s driveway. He searched the area and didn’t like the look of it. Not at all. If Mackenzie’s frown as she stared out the windshield told him anything, she was equally unsettled. Leach’s house scored an eight on the scale of one to ten—ten being the worst—for the most difficult property to get to. They’d barely made it over rutted and washed-out dirt roads that were hardly passable to find this secluded property.
Ditto for Sheriff Wheeler and Deputy Dahl. Dirt and mud coated their cars parked by the front gate. The pair stood at the mouth of the driveway where overgrown weeds ran down the middle with abandon, and tire marks were worn into the dirt. Wheeler used a large pair of bolt cutters to clip the padlock securing the gate.
Owen idled his truck to wait for the men to gain access and drive onto the property. He looked at the no trespassing and beware of the dog signs posted in multiple locations on the fence and gate. They’d also been mounted on the fence leading to the property. “Leach seriously doesn’t want company.”
“He’s an antisocial guy for sure.” Mackenzie peered out the window. “How in the world does he manage to be civil to the hunting parties he takes out?”
“Probably bites his tongue a lot because he makes good money as a guide, and that supports his lifestyle of living out here in nowhere.” Owen narrowed his gaze. “At least we have cell service out here in case we run into trouble.”
“Agreed.” She turned her attention back to the gate where Wheeler dragged the heavy chain free of the metal web.
Dahl pushed the gate in, the angry groan and high-pitched squeal audible inside the truck. The two men got back into their vehicles and drove onto the property. Owen shifted into gear and followed them. He went slow to take in the area. The brush he rolled over whispered against the bottom of his vehicle. Their vehicles startled birds that winged their way skyward. Dogs barked from somewhere on the property. Definitely outdoors. Hopefully, they were restrained or in a kennel.
About a half mile in, Wheeler and Dahl stopped by a small house. Owen expected the end of the driveway to open into a clearing, but weeds seized the land all the way to a single-story log cabin with a green metal roof and large stone fireplace crawling up the side.
Despite the overgrown condition of the property, the log cabin looked to be in good repair. A large barn-like garage with oversized doors sat further down the way and also looked to be in good shape.
“Odd,” Owen said. “The guy takes care of his buildings, but he doesn’t mow his lawn or cut the weeds.”
Owen parked behind the police vehicles, the dogs’ barking growing more frantic. The two officers walked up the three wooden stairs to the porch. Dogs didn’t race out and attack so Owen assumed they were somehow restrained. Mackenzie slid out before Owen could turn off the engine. She hurried through the weeds mowed down by the officers. Owen caught up to her. Up close, Owen saw that the black door and trim paint was peeling. So maybe the place wasn’t in such good condition after all.
Wheeler pounded on the door. Leach couldn’t be home but someone else might be, and it wouldn’t do to bust in and frighten them. The occupant could think they were intruders and draw down on them.
Owen tapped his foot until Wheeler gave Dahl the clearance to move. The deputy slammed his battering ram into the worn wood. The door splintered open and snapped back at him. The barking grew hoarse and desperate.
Dahl set the ram down, raised his weapon and stepped inside, pausing just inside the door. “Police. If anyone is here, show yourself now!”
They waited. The time ticked by slowly. Owen continued to check outside for any threat. No one pulled onto the lot or came running, and no one exited the rooms inside.
“Let’s get in there.” Wheeler pushed on Dahl’s back, and the pair of them moved ahead.
Owen waited for Mackenzie to go first, then he brought up the rear.
The house was dark and dank smelling. Thick logs made up the living room walls, and the kitchen held a simple line of worn wood cabinets on one wall with ancient brown appliances on the other.
The hallway led to the right, and the four of them started down it. Pink and black tile covered most of the narrow bathroom walls and floors, and the sink and bathtub were dotted with mold. Two bedrooms were located on the right side. One was stacked full of boxes and discarded household items. The next one held an iron-framed double bed with a worn quilt rumpled at the foot. An old dresser painted white with handles made from antler pieces stood in the corner.
They didn’t encounter anyone, the ongoing barking the only sound.
Wheeler turned to them. “Place is clear. Let’s get it searched. If we each take a room, we can be done right quick and get out to that garage.”
“I’ve got the living room.” Before anyone could argue, Owen headed for the hallway.
“I call dibs on the main bedroom,” Mackenzie said.
“Dahl, you take that spare bedroom. See if you can make any sense of all the garbage in there. I got the bathroom and kitchen. Let’s move.”
Owen crossed the tan carpet—more brown and black with dirt than the original color—to the desk in the corner. The top drawer held past-due bills for utilities, cell phone, and taxes. A few of them were two months behind, and the property taxes were a year in arrears.
So Leach had money issues. Maybe why he fought with Jamar Bussey in Vancouver and why he killed him. Owen would follow that as a line of inquiry.
The huge flat-screen TV looked fairly new. Sitting in front of it was a nice leather recliner. The guy couldn’t pay his bills, but he’d bought a big TV and pricey chair, and Owen had seen a satellite dish outside too. Owen guessed the man had set his priorities, or he could’ve stolen the items.
Owen opened the cabinet doors in the corner to find another set of doors locked with a strong hasp. He broke the lock and revealed several rifles hanging neatly in a row. Owen had learned a lot about weapons over his career and recognized one as a Mossberg’s Patriot rifle. He knew it fired .308 Winchesters.
Could be the firearm used to kill Cassie, or maybe Leach had that rifle with him. If he did, hopefully he hadn’t ditched it. They would have to get these weapons to the expert at Veritas.
