Presumed Dead

By Barbara Ann Derksen

A DEA agent is missing and his friend DJ Weine enlists the help of Andra Wilton and Brian Strait to find him. The agent has been undercover in a criminal biker gang gathering evidence to prosecute them for drug dealing.

Andra and Brian purchase motorcycles and begin to learn how to operate them but their lessons are interrupted when the parents of a missing 15 year old also engage their services to find their daughter.

Drugs, bikers, and murder draw them toward the answers they seek as they struggle to maintain their Christian walk. Brian and Andrea explore their growing relationship and learn how to work together as partners.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Ann Derksen
• Release date: Nov 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452365510

Barbara Ann Derksen

With a plethora of writing under her belt and a variety of genres, Barbara Ann Derksen receives encouragement from 4 and 5 star reviews, the eager anticipation by readers for the next book, and a new reader discovering her existence.Born in Canada, Barbara lived in the US for 12 years. There her writing surfaced as she worked under contract as a journalist for six years with over 2500 articles published in newspapers and magazines during that time. She began attending Colorado Christian Writer's Conferences and each year, under the tutelage of great Christian writer's like James Scott Bell, Angela Hunt, and others, she honed her skills and then published her first book in 2003.With 19 books to her credit, one currently inactive and awaiting revision, each one surpasses the last, according to her readers. The new series has given them something to think about as she delves into the world...

Book preview

PRESUMED DEAD

A WILTON-STRAIT MURDER MYSTERY

by

Barbara Ann Derksen

Smashwords Edition

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Published on Smashwords by:

Presumed Dead

A Wilton-Strait Murder Mystery

Copyright 2010 by Barbara Ann Derksen

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Prologue

Fear seeped from the pores of his skin like sweat from a fevered brow. It was a tangible passenger riding with its arms wrapped around his waist. His bike thundered toward freedom, as fast as the road conditions allowed.

Two years. It’s taken me two years. Now I’m running for my life. He swore loudly enough to cause the cattle standing along the fenced in field to scatter. He focused on the large hunks of crushed gravel covering his escape route.

The shiny black Kawasaki Vulcan’s front wheel wobbled. He fought to steady it and then looked toward the highway. He squeezed the throttle a little more. If I can just…

He felt the first impact. His eyes darted left and right as he searched his surroundings. No where to go. His pursuer was beside him. The man’s eyes held a murderous glint, one that he’d seen before. The renegade twisted his head and watched as his pursuer’s right leg kicked the back fender of his bike again.

He wrestled to keep the heavy motorcycle upright to no avail. The Kawasaki wobbled first right and then left. In a matter of seconds, metal and chrome screeched across the jagged gravel road dragging him toward the water-filled ditch and the electrified barbed wire fence that flanked it. White hot exhaust pipes sizzled when the bike hit the water but he heard none of it.

Belcher, his bulky frame an extension of his black and chrome Heritage Softail, skidded to a stop beside the downed rider. I trusted him. He’d been wrong. He watched his quarry’s large frame land with a thud on the roadbed and then careen into the ditch. The juice on the electric barbed wire fence had been turned up enough to disable the man but not kill him. A thin stream of water left over from a recent rainstorm filled the bottom of the channel where the victim’s feet landed.

Belcher hit the handlebars of his bike in satisfaction. Just as he planned. No one rats me out, no one. He cursed. The victim’s screams, covered by the wind whistling through a nearby corn field, fulfilled Belcher’s need for revenge. He watched the man’s body jerk. Belcher knew that every muscle down the length of his adversary’s frame was contracting painfully from the high voltage.

He’d researched electrocution. He knew that the betrayer’s red face was an indication that his body temperature was on the rise and that if his cohort, at the switch in the barn, left the current on long enough, the intense internal heat would destroy the traitor’s body proteins. He cursed again. It could bake your organs. He sneered and then watched as the man’s body flopped in a dead heap in the muddy ditch. The rise and fall of his chest indicated life but he was clearly unconscious. Now we’ll see who you talked to and what you know for sure. A noticeable odor of burnt hair and skin permeated the air.

With a nod of satisfaction, the assassin turned his machine toward the compound where loud party music filled the early evening air. He rode toward the sentry at the gate, his only witness, and nodded, comfortable with that man’s loyalty. He stopped his bike. Lock him in the barn. We’ll deal with him later. Belcher’s tone of voice delivered the right message. No one questioned the president of this club. Neither man smiled. The guard gave an answering nod.

Belcher rolled his bike down the road toward the farm yard, well hidden from the outside world by hills covered with the green haze of new spring growth. The crew is beginning to get noisy. Let’s party, Belcher spoke to the nearest member of the Demons Raiders.

Chapter One

No, Brian! Absolutely Not! I do not ride, nor do I want to learn to ride a motorcycle. Why would I want people to align me with those dirty bikers? Andrea’s hands were pinned to her hips. Her eyes held a hardened glint of determination as she glared at her new partner. Brian Strait looked just as strong-minded. Andrea’s tirade continued. Neither of us rides a motorcycle for that matter. Why do we need to ride in order to solve this case?

Just listen, Andrea. Do you remember when we were in Haiti? You didn't want to learn to scuba dive either but you did alright. Brian chuckled. In fact, you did better than alright. Now it’s time to learn another skill.

Andrea Wilton whipped her hair out of her eyes. She turned and marched toward the fridge and grabbed a cold diet cola. Do you know what my friends call motorcycle riders? She popped the tab on the can and took a long drink. They refer to them as crash test dummies. Motorcycle riding is dangerous.

Not if we learn to ride properly and defensively. Most motorcycle accidents happen because some driver, usually a car or truck, doesn't see the motorcycle or doesn't give the bike enough space on a highway. We’ll learn from the best. Brian folded his hands over his chest. As far as associating with bikers, just how do you think we’ll fit in, look inconspicuous, if we aren't riding as they do. Remember Jesus died for bikers too.

Harrumph. Yes well…what about motorcycles? We don’t have any. Andrea sat down heavily into the chair behind her desk. She knew she was losing the argument.

Well, I’ve thought of that too. We have a place in our budget for new equipment, don’t we? Brian leaned his hands on her desk.

Yes, of course. But when we made that addition, I was thinking office equipment, not motorcycles.

Andrea, didn’t we say that the reason we started this agency was to help people. Well, DJ is people. He rides with an organization that does a lot of good. We would be helping solve the murder of one of their friends, if that’s what this turns out to be. And maybe we would be helping put some very bad people behind bars. These outlaws do a lot of harm to anyone crazy enough to come into contact with them.

Andrea shifted her weight, a clear indication she was reconsidering her position. She began to chew on her lower lip, and the tight grimace on her face began to disappear. But...

No more buts. You know I’m right.

This could be more dangerous than Haiti, she added anyway. Okay, let’s get DJ Wiebe in here and go over some details. In the meantime, why don’t you go ahead and find us some top-notch motorcycles. Remember, I don’t have a lot of strength in my arms.

What has that got to do with anything? Brian’s response was clearly beginning to show his frustration over Andrea’s reluctance.

When I fall, I won’t be able to lift the bike back up. Her hands were back on her hips.

You aren’t going to fall, remember. Good training …

Yes, but we need to think of the ‘what if’s, don’t we?

Okay, you win. I’ll get started. What are you going to be doing the rest of the day?

I think I’ll dig up any information I can find on the Demons Raiders and their leader, Belcher. That way, we should get a fair idea of how to proceed with this operation. Andrea walked over to her desk and turned her computer on. "I think we also need all the prayer support we can get, so…

Make sure when you call the church you just give them sketchy details at best. We don’t want to divulge our source or our intentions and blow our cover before we even get started.

You know, sometimes you treat me like an idiot. I will just ask for prayer. They don’t need to know all the details. God already does. Her eyes spit fire toward Brian who hurriedly put on his jacket and ducked out of the office.

Brian slammed the office door behind him and strode toward his car parked in the little parking area adjacent to the new office. When he and Andrea had returned from Haiti, they’d begun construction on their small building as soon as the decision to open Shuster Detective Agency had been made.

His deep throated chuckle reverberated through the car as he sat in the front seat. Anticipation caused his stomach to actually do a flip or two. What is it about motorcycles? He was going to pursue a dream that he’d had for a long time. He was going to add a motorcycle, maybe two, to his collection of motorized vehicles. Imagine, me riding a motorcycle. He felt almost giddy with eagerness.

As he pulled out of the driveway, his thoughts turned to his partner. Andrea is sure reticent most of the time about trying new things. I wonder if she has always been that way. She does change her mind though…so far. He maneuvered into traffic at the next intersection. He knew exactly where the bike shop was. He’d wandered through their building on more than one occasion.

Twenty minutes later, Brian ran his hand over a red and chrome bike as he perused the rest of the motorcycles parked in the Honda dealership’s shop. The showroom held a variety of bikes, some new but some a little older. He walked slowly around the room, checking out each shiny motorcycle before a salesman approached him.

Can I help answer any questions you might have. The young man was dressed in jeans with a Sturgis 2006 t-shirt complimenting his biker look.

I was wondering about that bike, the black one with 15,000 miles on the odometer. Brian admired the chrome details.

What would you like to know? Why don’t you try it on for size. The salesman clearly was anxious to make a sale.

Brian threw his leg over the seat and plunked down on the leather. It fit his long legs perfectly. How much are you asking for this bike?

Well, that one is a ’97 model and with its low mileage, we are asking $12,000. What exactly are you looking for?

Brian reached to shake the man’s hand as he got off the bike. By the way, I’m Brian Strait.

Hi Brian. I’m Jeffrey. The two men eyed each other and then grinned.

Brian moved closer to the window. You know Jeffrey, we might need two bikes. I may be able to talk my girlfriend into riding too. Brian crossed his fingers behind his back. Andrea wasn’t exactly his girlfriend but maybe…one day…

Jeffrey walked over to a brilliant blue bike that sat much lower and had no trunk, just saddlebags. Try this one.

Brian sat on the seat. This one is lower to the ground.

This bike is lighter and designed for one rider. The other was a touring bike, made for long rides with two people on her. It is much heavier as well. If your girlfriend is open to learning to ride her own, this would be the best option for you.

Brian grabbed the handlebars. I like the feel of this one. But how would I know whether it’s the right one since neither of us knows how to ride right now. We plan to learn right away but…

There a safety course next week at the Community Building. It runs through the weekend and will give you some great tips on defensive riding. It’s well worth the $100 it costs to take it. Jeffrey yanked a rag out of his back pocket and began to polish the bike. It glistened in the sunlight creeping through the front windows of the shop. Brian liked the color.

What about one for my girlfriend. She’s really nervous about this but I think she’ll be willing to try anyway.

What about a trike? The salesman moved towards the back of the store where another striking blue bike stood, only this time with three wheels. The blue was more of a metallic color with gray speckles in the paint. This one would be safer to ride, less likely to tip over.

That sounds perfect. Tipping is her biggest fear and, of course, she has a lot of friends who are not supportive of motorcycles.

Yeah, everyone’s a critic but none of the critics ride, do they?

I guess that’s about right. Anyhow, how much are you asking for this one?

This bike is newer than the other blue one we just looked at. It has only 6000 miles so we want $25,000 for it. Trikes are traditionally more expensive because of the extra work in making them a three wheeled vehicle. Jeffrey almost seemed apologetic but Brian was really interested.

I’ll talk to my girlfriend. I want to bring a friend of ours by who knows more about motorcycles. These two look like the right mix for us.

Great, I’ll see you later then. I will tell you that trikes sell really fast here. There’s always someone looking for them. The man smiled and held out his hand. With a handshake, Brian left the store and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed the number that had been given to him.

DJ, this is Brian Strait.

He listened as the man on the other end acknowledged who he was. Brian replied, That’s right. Anyhow, I’ve just left the Honda shop and was wondering if you had some time today to check out a couple of motorcycles with me?

DJ told him that 4 p.m. would work. Brian agreed to meet him there. Could you meet with us at the office afterwards? DJ’s eagerness to get started was transmitted to Brian. Fine then. We’ll see you at four. Brian snapped his cell phone shut, returned it to his jacket pocket and then walked over to his car.

Two tasks under my belt. Brian spoke to no one in particular as he opened his door and sat down on the front seat. The parking lot had become quite full since he’d arrived, people bike shopping for the upcoming ride season. He began to whistle along with the oldies tune playing on the radio as he headed back to the office.

Andrea put her time alone to good use. She used the Internet to discover agencies related to drug use and bikers in particular. She read a few newspaper articles about Demons Raiders and then added the rest to her favorites for later review. There are quite a few about them. I’ll need to call some federal agencies like the Drug Enforcement Agency. She added DEA to her list.

Andrea logged off her Internet connection and then sat back with her coffee cup in hand. When Brian and I first agreed to use some of Max’s money to start this agency, we’d wanted to help people find loved ones or solve a crime. But not another murder. Max Shuster was shot because he’d been involved with some really terrible people. He’d known that someday he could be killed. Andrea dropped her head in remembrance of that terrible time.

Max had secretly salted away an incredible amount of money in Andrea’s name. How he did that I still don’t know but…He’d wanted her to solve his murder. She and Brian Strait had joined forces to travel to Haiti as a result but their real reason was in pursuit of the Michners, missing for four days by then. They thought maybe Max’s death and the missing couple were tied together.

Having solved that crime, she and Brian decided to go ahead with the agency. We’ve only had a few inquiries so far, but... This was their first week in business. It looks like we’re going to start with a… We don’t really know if this is a murder…yet. Andrea tilted the coke on her desk for another refreshing drink.

DJ Wiebe was the son of some close friends of the Michners. He wanted them to solve the murder of one of his friends. Only, there’s no proof there’s been a murder. DJ’s friend is missing, that’s all.

Andrea recalled the little she knew about their relationship. DJ belonged to The Son’s Riders, a Christian motorcycle group that ministered at biker rallies, in prisons and anywhere that bikers gathered. She tapped her pen on the desk absentmindedly. Apparently the victim was DEA. DJ had befriended him in order to share Christ with him but… She wondered what the man had been working on for that agency. I guess we’ll find out. She took her empty can back to the recycling bin.

The door chime sounded. Brian sauntered into the room. I found them. He had a smug grin on his face, something close to the look of a little boy on Christmas morning.

Found what? Andrea was still thinking about the information she had gathered about the Demons Raiders.

I located two motorcycles just perfect for us. At least, I think they’ll work. I’ve asked DJ to meet me at the Honda shop so I can tap into his expertise.

She sat at her desk, her eyes locked on her computer screen, glancing at the last information she’d googled. Her eyes swiveled towards her partner. Great, maybe he’ll meet with us after that so we can…

I’ve already thought of that. He’ll come here with me afterwards and we can go over the details of this case. I also discovered that there’s a defensive motorcycle course beginning next weekend. Wanna go? Brian moved towards his desk, swung his chair around and sat down.

Andrea tapped her index fingernail on her desk. I don’t want to ride at all but if I must then…

Oh that’s the other thing…the second motorcycle…is a trike…three wheels. Doesn’t tip so easily. There was that little boy look again Andrea noticed.

She swung her chair to face him. Really? I didn’t know they made three wheeled motorcycles. Now her interest was peaked.

Apparently they do. The color of that one almost matches the one I thought would be a good ride for me. Brian cleared his throat. Er-r…Andrea, I kinda told the guy at the Honda shop that we were boyfriend and girlfriend.

What! Boy, you’re full of surprises. Why did you have to do that?

Well, I couldn’t come up with a good explanation why, all of a sudden, we want to ride motorcycles…together yet.

Andrea searched Brian’s face for any sign that he was embarrassed by the thought that people might pair them up in a personal way. She found none. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to have people think we are more than business partners. For this case, I mean.

That’s what I thought. Besides, Andrea, we are more than just business partners. I think of you as my closest friend. I hope you think of me the same way.

You mean…closer than Trent? Andrea found it hard to pass up a chance to tease him. You two are joined at the hip. She giggled and wagged her finger in his direction.

That’s different and you know it. His look displayed indignation but Andrea knew he was just joking too. Brian pointed at himself and then Andrea. We, you and I, have been through more together than most couples. I know I can count on you and you know you can depend on me. Just because we haven’t dated, doesn’t mean we aren’t friends and…well…I’m a boy and you’re a girl…so boy friend and girl friend. Okay?

Oh, all right. I see your point Andrea blushed. Now do you want to hear what I found out about Demons Raiders?

Go ahead, I’m all ears.

Newspaper articles about this gang go back thirty years. They have a long history of drugs, prostitution, and violence, especially against other biker gangs. They used to call Montana their turf but over the last ten years, they’ve expanded their operations all over the nation. Chapters…that’s what they call branches of their organization…are located in all states and there are two large ones near here.

Did you read anything about arrests?

No, not yet, but I still have several articles to read. I did read that they’ve been suspected of one murder but no one has ever been tried and convicted.

I wonder if Terry was working undercover and that’s how he got messed up with them.

I’m sure we’ll find out this afternoon. Andrea turned towards her computer again. I still have several leads I want to pursue. There has to be more information I can dig up. This gang seems to be very dangerous, just like most people think of bikers.

Yeah, wait till they lump us in with them!

I can hardly wait. Andrea grimaced over the idea of being considered an outlaw. Do you still think this is the avenue we should pursue to find out what happened to Terry? I know DJ thinks he’s dead but…

…we have no evidence of that, I know. Do you want to come with me when I meet DJ at the Honda shop?

I might as well see this great motorcycle you’ve picked out for me. Sure I’ll go along. Andrea turned toward her desk and began reading through the rest of the articles she’d found on Demons Raiders. Listen to this. Demons Raiders and most outlaw or 1% groups form a brotherhood that is sometimes thicker than family. They tend to be very loyal and treat disloyalty harshly. Andrea read further into the article and then turned toward Brian. I wonder if they found out Terry was DEA.

Maybe…maybe. They sound as if they’d view that with an attitude of disloyalty, wouldn’t you say. That may account for…

…a missing Terry. But murder. Would they murder someone for not keeping his mouth shut about their business? I mean…

I guess it depends on what their business is. If the DEA is involved, then drugs are a definite possibility and drug dealers, biker or not, can be really sparse with any information to members or otherwise. Brian walked toward the utility closet. I’m going to hang those pictures before DJ gets here. We wouldn’t want him to think we just moved in.

Brian chuckled as Andrea scowled in his direction. I asked you to do that a week ago. She dropped her head to look at her computer screen again as Brian began pounding nails into the newly painted wall space.

Two hours later Andrea and Brian pulled up in front of the Honda shop. Waiting patiently for them was a leather-clad figure, sitting astride a large black bike. His right leg was bent at the knee, slung over the gas tank, with his other foot resting on the pavement. DJ stood when he saw them get out of Brian’s car and unzipped his jacket to lay it across the seat of his bike. He raised his hand in greeting as he followed them into the store.

Hi DJ. Brian held his hand out for a handshake. Been waiting long?

Andrea extended her hand as well. Hi DJ.

No, I just got here, myself. DJ sauntered strode over to the nearest bike. The black beauty had lots of chrome but no other accouterments. His admiring look spoke volumes.

Here’s the bike I thought would work for me. Brian pointed to the bike parked beside the one DJ had spotted. Since we don’t ride yet, could you take it for a spin to check it out?

Sure, be glad too. Let’s get the salesman. DJ motioned for the nearest salesman who immediately approached the threesome. He recognized a serious biker when he saw one. He stroked the bike that held everyone’s interest.

The ST1300 ABS has a longitudinally mounted V-4 engine, a lightweight aluminum chassis with a slick five-speed transmission. He began his sales pitch. With detachable, locking saddlebags and a motorized, adjustable windshield as well as the added performance of an anti-lock braking system, this bike sells for $15,099. Do you want to take it for a test-drive?

That’s the idea, responded DJ. The salesman returned to the area behind the counter, grabbed a set of keys and then motioned for another man in the store, presumably another salesman, to help him direct the bike through the wide open doors connecting the showroom to the parking lot outside. Once the motorcycle was parked on the pavement, DJ hopped on and started the ignition.

As they watched him ride onto the street, Brian turned to Andrea and motioned for her to follow him. He escorted her to the other side of the shop. There’s the bike we thought might work for you, Andrea. She looked it over but with less enthusiasm than Brian had anticipated. What’s wrong? he asked.

This bike doesn’t have the sleek lines of the one that DJ is testing out. It looks cumbersome. She walked to the other side and bent to check out the wheels.

Oh, really? But I thought you wanted one that would be almost guaranteed not to tip. This one is more stable than one with only two wheels.

Andrea straightened up and moved to stand beside Brian. Yes, but…

You like the bike that DJ is driving! You want a motorcycle like mine! Ha, you’ve caught the bug. He grinned from ear to ear.

Whatta ya mean? I just like the looks of that other one more than this one. If I have to learn to ride one of these things, then I want to look like I can ride a real bike, not one with training wheels.

You’d better not let anyone hear you say that in this shop. The salesman told me that these three wheeled bikes are in big demand.

Brian, the other one is $15,000 new. This one has a few miles on it and still sells for $25,000. Besides we could buy matching bikes. Her body swayed from side to