The Trail To Veritas

By JW Lucas

A bloodied young man stumbles out to a road adjacent to the woods along the Appalachian Trail in the Massachusetts Berkshires. He flags down a motorist for help, and reports he and his girlfriend had been attacked during the night and she was kidnapped. A massive search is immediately organized by the State Police and County Sheriffs.
A prominent US Senator contacts the Attorney General and reports the girl’s father is a close friend, and that he’s received a one-million-dollar ransom demand. As the search gets underway, it’s learned the father has a mysterious connection to the Intelligence community. For an unknown reason, the FBI doesn’t take the lead in the kidnapping investigation.
Follow Major Crimes Consulting US Attorney Daryl Richardson as he’s drawn into the case and discovers not only is the girl’s father’s business activity with the Government shrouded in secrecy, those close to him have a habit of suffering untimely deaths.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JW Lucas
• Release date: Feb 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005966096

JW Lucas

JW Lucas has more than forty years experience with criminal investigations, both in law enforcement and the private sector. His investigations have been featured on network television, including a movie of the week re-creating a murder case that brought forward the defense of demonic possession.

Book preview

Chapter One

As she worked in the garden, the ragtag formation of crows circling above waited. They didn’t dare swoop down to steal morsels from the fledgling crops she was lovingly nurturing. They watched; instinct and their shrill caws told each other she wouldn’t be there all day. The blazing afternoon sun was intense and soon she would seek shelter from the heat. Their frenzied feast on seeds and sprouts would have to wait.

She stood up and removed the baseball cap covering her head, wiping the perspiration from her brow with a cloth she had hanging from the back pocket of her jeans. The garden wasn’t my idea, but she seemed content. As I watched her arch her back and stretch, I smiled, sensing she had found both satisfaction and accomplishment from playing in the dirt.

Me? I was content to sit on a chaise lounge on the deck with a cold iced tea and watch her. Moral support, I called it.

What do you think? my fiancée Mandy asked as she walked over and stood below the deck, pointing back at her new vegetable garden.

I took a moment to choose my words. She had worked hard to plan her foray into the world of agriculture. She had measured the plot several times; studied the movement of the sun throughout the day; calculated how she would provide irrigation. She had good intentions and spent hours on the internet learning how to garden. I didn’t have the heart to warn her that the abundant local wildlife was lurking in the shadows to pillage and forage the fruits of her labor.

I stood up and walked to the railing, carefully placing my drink on the top board. I noticed she’d missed wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek, but that slight blemish didn’t diminish her natural beauty.

Her long brunette hair was styled in a French braid, her makeup and eye shadow complimented her piercing blue eyes. The form-fitting jeans and black and white plaid shirt drew attention to her striking figure. Without a doubt, she was the most beautiful gentlewoman farmer in Berkshire County.

It looks good, Hon; I think it was smart to go with the wrought iron fence instead of chicken wire.

Yeah, I think it was the best choice, she responded. I wanted the vegetable garden to fit in with all the flower beds. The fence was expensive, but we’re having a wedding out here in September and I don’t want people to think we’re living on Tobacco Road.

I bit my tongue and thought to myself, Tobacco Road? We were living in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, in a palatial Frank Lloyd Wright style rambling ranch on seventy acres. I’d inherited the property from my late Great Aunt who had raised me after my parents died in a car accident when I was a child. This wasn’t skid row!

The corn has sprouted up and the tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, and zucchini are all doing great! We’re going to have a ton of crops to donate to the food pantry.

That’s what I loved about her. She had accepted my inherited wealth as an opportunity to continue my Great-Aunt’s philanthropy. With her Masters’s degree in Finance, Mandy manages the day-to-day operation of a charitable Foundation we’d established with what I’d learned was millions of dollars that had been left to me, along with the house. The wedding she referred to? Ours!

I’m Daryl Richardson, a former police detective with a law degree. For several years before my inheritance, I’d worked as an Assistant US Attorney in Boston. Now I work as a major crimes’ legal consultant for the Department of Justice, keeping my Federal credentials.

I’d met Mandy almost a year ago when I was working on a criminal investigation for Damian Costigan, the U.S. Attorney in Boston. As they say in the movies, It was love at first sight. We became engaged soon after we met. Her physical beauty wasn’t her only trait that captured my attention.

Truth be told after my aunt had passed, and an army of lawyers and accountants waded through the intricacies of her estate, I became aware that the money my Aunt had left me would provide a comfortable life. In hindsight, I honestly didn’t know exactly how much money I had until Mandy came along.

I finished my drink as she gathered up her tools and put them into the trailer behind her tractor.

To get her gardening career jumpstarted, both were gifts from our neighbor and groundskeeper Erik Nichols and his wife Bernadette; Bernie as we called her.

It was early July, the eighth week I’d been home on sabbatical from my work. For the past year, I’d been working non-stop consulting on major crime cases. The work was stressful and at times consuming, but I was living for the challenge. What I didn’t see coming was that it had been taking its toll.

I was drinking more than eating, the excitement of a new romantic relationship had cut into the nighttime hours I should have been sleeping. The notoriety of my work was giving rise to the fears of my neighbors that our heretofore piece of heaven in the Berkshires was going to Hell in a handbasket from the violence they thought was confined to crowded urban housing projects.

There had been some close calls during those months. Luckily, we had survived the violence we were confronted with. I took the hint and a scolding from Mandy that I was on a collision course with disaster if I didn’t slow down. Truth be told, after trying this concept called rest, I’d become bored.

She slowly climbed the stairs to the deck, each step more laborious than the one before. Upon reaching the landing, she unceremoniously plopped down on a chaise, her arms like a dead weight dropped onto the armrests.

I’m beat! I want to rest for a minute and then I’m going to take a quick shower and change. What are we going to do for dinner?

I answered I could grill some steaks, or we could eat out. She looked over at me and seemed to weigh her options.

It’s hot and humid out here; you probably don’t want to grill, and besides, I didn’t take the steaks out of the freezer. We’ll have to eat out, but nothing fancy.

I agreed. She slowly stood and stretched in an exaggerated fashion before she opened the screen slider and went inside. I looked at my watch, then my empty glass. Almost four o’clock. I decided it wasn’t too early for an adult beverage. Old habits die hard.

I went inside, fixed the drink, turned on the TV, and sat down to watch the four pm local news. The lead story caught my attention.

State and County police and rescue workers were scouring the area for a missing twenty-three-year-old Georgia woman hiker on the Appalachian Trail near Byronham.

Having been raised in the area, I was vaguely familiar with the village, a twenty-minute drive southeast of Stockbridge.

I recalled that the Appalachian Trail stretches from Georgia to Maine, ninety miles of it in Massachusetts; from Mount Everett in the south through Mount Greylock in the north. The village of Byronham is roughly one mile from the Trail.

In recent years I could remember only a half-dozen reports of emergencies among the hundreds of hikers who had made the trek through our area, the incidents being primarily medical issues.

The news report said the woman, Courtney Powell, and her boyfriend, Jimmy Jenkins, had started their hike from Georgia in late April. Two days ago, Jimmy was found by a motorist who stopped to offer help as he came stumbling out of the woods alongside Route 23, just north of the village. His face and arms were bruised, the hair on the back of his head was matted from dried blood.

Jimmy told the motorist he and his girlfriend were on the trail sleeping in their tent when they were attacked in the middle of the night. He said he tried to fight off the intruder but was knocked unconscious when he was hit in the head with a rock. When he came to, he found Courtney was missing, their campsite ransacked, his cellphone and some supplies were stolen. He frantically hollered for help and began searching for her. When he realized no other hikers were nearby to hear his cries, he made his way down to the nearby road for help. The motorist called 911 for an ambulance and the police.

As the news story continued, it focused on the search activities and the agencies that were involved. As the camera scene moved to show the search command post, I recognized two familiar faces; Sheriff’s Department Detective Lieutenant Matt Holcomb and State Police Major Rich Prince. We were good friends. In the past year, I’d worked with them both on major crimes cases they were investigating.

Hey! That’s Matt and Major Prince! Mandy exclaimed with surprise as she entered the room and sat down on the sofa. What have those two gotten themselves into this time?

I explained the circumstances of the missing woman and the assault of her boyfriend.

Mandy slowly shook her head back and forth in disgust.

What’s going on in this world? I don’t know much about hiking or the Appalachian Trail, but I can’t recall hearing anything about crimes on it. Do these things happen up there often?

I explained that the news reporter had commented violent crimes were rare. The hikers were like a large family of outdoors’ enthusiasts and tended to look out for each other. Today’s news of a kidnapping was shocking.

I thought that word of a potentially violent person on the trail would spread quickly among the hikers and ultimately to the local police authorities. From what I could recall, this alleged assault and abduction seemed to be an exception rather than the norm.

Hmm, she said as she thought about what I’d said. I guess we aren’t safe anywhere in this crazy world. How long has the girl been missing?

Since last night, according to the news. It sounds like the police have started a massive search.

I hate to say it, but my guess is she’s dead. The guy probably kidnapped and raped her and then killed her.

Jeez! Why on earth would you think something like that?

Common sense! Think about it! This happened in the woods, not on a dark city street in Boston or New York. It’s not as if the kidnapper had a getaway car waiting or something. He could have dumped her in the woods where no one will ever find her, and my guess is he’s still in there somewhere.

I looked over at her. She was wearing her white terrycloth robe and brushing her hair. Her eyes were bright and wide open, reflecting the rebirth of energy her quick shower had brought.

I think your theory that whoever did this is still on the trail is a real possibility, but I’d like to know more about the assault that led to her kidnapping.

I saw she was studying me, although it could have been a stare; I wasn’t sure. She sighed.

I know where you’re going with this. You’re going to get yourself involved in this case, aren’t you? her voice almost a whisper. By this time in our relationship, I was familiar with her subdued tone that signaled resignation.

Well, I can’t stop you. Where are we going to eat?

Chapter Two

We arrived a few minutes past six pm at the Gathering Place Inn, a steakhouse just over the border in New York. I’d seen its grand opening advertisement in the local paper earlier in the week. Judging from the number of cars in the already crowded parking lot, I realized we weren’t the only people eager to try it out.

After being seated and studying the menu, we both ordered the filet mignon and enjoyed a before-dinner drink. Mandy chatted about her gardening for a few minutes and then seemed to drift off as if her mind was preoccupied with something else. After she was silent for a few minutes, I asked her what was wrong.

She slowly took a sip of her wine and carefully placed the glass on the table. Something wasn’t right.

Honey, I said as I reached over and took her hand in mine.

What’s wrong?

I don’t know why, but suddenly I started thinking about those poor parents of the girl hiker who’s missing. I remember when you and I had to talk with my friend Suzanne’s parents after she was murdered last year, and how devasted they were. I can only imagine what these parents are going through.

Yeah, it’s awful, but what we need to do is keep hoping that she was kidnapped but is still alive.

She looked at me and squinted her eyes in reaction to my remark.

You honestly don’t think she’s alive, do you? she whispered.

Like I said Hon, we don’t know. All we can do is pray that she’s found alive.

She looked pensive for a few moments. I wondered what she was thinking. Finally, she spoke.

I never thought I’d say this, especially after everything we’ve been through with your work in the past year, but I do want you to help Matt and Major Prince find this girl. Or her body.

I released her hand and leaned back in my chair. I wanted to know more about what had happened, but I hadn’t thought about getting actively involved. Her comment caused me to think. Who has law enforcement jurisdiction on the Appalachian Trail? As far as I knew, this was a State Police case supported by the County Sheriff’s Department. According to the news report, needing additional personnel, they’d sought help with the search from the local National Guard. As a consulting US attorney, I had no authority to just step into the local case.

Our servers brought our dinners. I told Mandy to try not to think about the missing girl and enjoy her meal. As we ate, I saw her become more relaxed, our conversation once again centered on her garden and our house.

We ate heartily and rated our dinners as excellent. We opted to pass on dessert and an after-dinner drink and headed for home a few minutes before eight. After we arrived, I settled in to watch TV, Mandy changed into her nightgown. I poured us each a glass of wine and she curled up next to me on the couch.

It wasn’t our custom, but we agreed we’d stay up and watch the ten o’clock local news for an update on the search for the missing girl. As it turned out, there were no fresh developments. The day’s search was suspended because of darkness. It was late; we were tired and went to bed.

In the morning after breakfast, I called Major Rich Prince on his cellphone. He answered and told me he was in Byronham getting the search teams organized for the day. He said that because of the terrain the National Guard had brought in some additional staff to help with the ground search, and the plan for today was to conduct an aerial search using drones. I asked if he’d mind if I took a drive over and watched.

Of course. I don’t mind, he answered. In fact, I was going to call you today. I want to run a few things by you.

I told him I’d be over within the hour. He said he’d alert the officers to let me through the roadblock he’d set up to keep the media and curious away from his command post. I went and found Mandy out on the deck looking out at her garden and told her my plans for the morning.

You’re going to visit the search party? Can I go?

It was a warm sunny morning; I thought maybe a change of scenery would be good for the both of us. I told her that would be fine, she said she just needed ten minutes to change out of her work jeans.

True to form, ten minutes turned into half an hour. When she came out to the kitchen it instantly struck me that in her tight jeans, crisp, white short-sleeve top, her long hair dancing on her shoulders complementing her perfect makeup, I didn’t dare suggest we weren’t going to a social event, but rather a crime scene. I locked up the house, and we headed out for Byronham.

As we approached the trail access point parking area, I presented my Federal credentials at the roadblock. The State trooper examined them carefully and leaned over into the driver’s window. His broad smile was obviously for Mandy, not me.

Welcome, Mr. Richardson, we were told to expect you. Please proceed, he said as he waved us through.

The parking area was small, I took the last available spot on the right shoulder of the driveway. As we got out of the car, I saw State Police Major Rich Prince standing with a group of men who were setting up a canvass shelter. To their right, I noticed two of the largest drones I’d ever seen.

What are those things? Mandy asked as she tugged on my arm.

Drones. They look like they have cameras attached to them. Rich told me on the phone they were going to use them for an aerial search today.

Wow! How cool is that? Can we watch? she asked excitedly.

I answered we’d need to first check-in with Rich. She nodded. We walked over to where he was standing. As we approached, he headed over to us.

Hey! You made it! And I see you brought the Boss with you! he greeted us as he hugged Mandy and shook my hand.

Yeah, looks like you have a lot of help here today. Anything develop overnight?

No, we had two search teams on the trail yesterday. They got back down here about eight-thirty last night. They secured the crime scene; the plan today is to collect all the hiker’s equipment and bring it down so we can get it to the crime lab, hopefully for prints and DNA. The report I got is that the suspect threw a lot of their stuff around. With any luck, we might get some evidence to help us ID him.

What about a cell phone? Did she have one?

Yeah. We got the number from her boyfriend. We called; the message we got said ‘not in service.’ We’re pinging it, anyway.

Is there cell service out here?

Yeah, it’s spotty, but we’re not having any trouble when we call our search teams up there. Her phone may be out of range, may be disabled, or turned off. We’re pinging it every thirty minutes.

I looked up the hill toward the trail ridge.

I’m not a hiker or camper, but it looks as if the area is densely wooded. Is the trail well marked?

I was told it is, but I haven’t gone up there to see it myself. The boyfriend told us yesterday he and his girlfriend set up their tent near a stream in a small clearing about fifty yards off the trail. He said they’d been there for two days. The girl had slightly twisted her ankle and wanted to rest one more day before they moved on.

I heard on the news the boyfriend was knocked unconscious by the intruder. What’s his condition?

He’s still in the hospital. They’re holding him another day for observation. That’s one thing I wanted to talk to you about.

Rich lowered his voice. I was at the hospital yesterday when our detectives interviewed him. As I listened to him, I got an uneasy feeling. I can’t explain it. He was upset, but not as much as I would expect him to be after what he said he went through. The other thing bothering me is the doctor who treated him in the ER said he had a head wound, but he was surprised when the kid said he was knocked unconscious after he was hit with a rock. The doc said from his experience treating head injuries, the wound didn’t seem to be serious enough to cause unconsciousness.

What do you know about him?

His name is Jimmy Jenkins, he’s thirty years old and says he’s originally from Eastern Tennessee. He said he moved to Georgia about four months ago and has been dating his girlfriend Courtney Powell for three months. He said he developed a smartphone app that provides information on hiking the Appalachian Trail; supplies needed, camping gear, info about rest areas, re-supply points, things like that. He said he holds the copyright to the app and sold the distribution rights to a third-party company. According to him, that’s his source of income. We ran him through NCIC and the FBI criminal history databases, he doesn’t have a record.

Only been dating the girl a few months, and she agrees to take a months’ long hike with him? What’s her story?

Ha! That’s where this gets interesting. She comes from big money. Her father owns several car and truck dealerships in Georgia from what we’ve been able to find out online.

Apparently, he provides the bulk of new vehicles to the State and some to the Feds. Big bucks! And the girl? Courtney? She’s a beauty pageant winner! Rich looked over at Mandy, who had her smartphone in her hand.

Do me a favor, Google her. Courtney Powell, beauty pageant.

Mandy did as she was asked and brought up a picture of Courtney. Powell. She was gorgeous!

Wow! Mandy added her opinion as she enlarged the photo. This girl could be a professional model with those looks and that body.

Wisely, Rich and I didn’t take a closer look.

Well, I have to tell you after meeting her boyfriend yesterday, I don’t get it. If you ask me, she could do a lot better than him in the looks department! Rich said.

Ouch! That’s not nice, Mandy quipped. They say love is blind.

Yeah, I’ve heard that. But in this case, blind has a literal meaning!

You’re bad, Rich Prince! Mandy shot back with a laugh.

I changed the subject. What’s the search plan for today?

He pointed over to the drones. As you can see, we’re getting set up to deploy the camera drones and start a grid search. We have the video monitors set up on the table over there; that’s what the shade tent is for.

Can I watch? Mandy asked, unable to hide the obvious excitement in her voice.

Of course! C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the system operator. He’s from the National Guard. This is their equipment.

Rich brought us over and made the introductions. Staff Sergeant Will Collins explained what the equipment was and said his men were ready to launch the drones. We moved back a few feet and watched as his assistants energized the rotors. As they came up to speed, the drones hovered a few feet above the ground before the Sergeant and an assistant steered them up the sharp incline to the trail. The clarity of the video was amazing. A minute or two later the two crafts were hovering above the hiker’s ransacked campsite and we watched the evidence collection taking place. I’m not sure if the Sergeant was showing off for his new audience, but he zoomed in the camera lens of one drone to give us the perspective as if we were looking over the searcher’s shoulders.

That is so cool, I want one of those for our house, Mandy said in a hushed voice as she tugged on my arm.

What?

Yeah, we have seventy acres. I can use it to keep watch over the property. I can fly it up to the lake, down the hill into the meadows. I could do all that and never have to leave the house.

I looked over at Rich. It was obvious he was going to be no help to me on this one.

We’ll see. For now, let’s just watch for a bit.

The aerial search proved to be an exercise in precision.

Within a few minutes, the two drones were slowly cruising above the trail as if they were in a synchronized dance routine.

Side by side, they were slowly sweeping above the tree line for what I estimated to be two or three hundred yards. At the end of their route they simultaneously slowly turned, increasing the distance between them by twenty-five-or thirty-yards, reversing direction to eventually pass over and then go beyond the search starting point. I grasped the search mechanics; slowly and consistently widen the search area.

The clarity of the video was incredible. Unfortunately, other than the activity at the ransacked campsite, nothing of evidentiary value was being found.

Mandy had made herself comfortable in a canvas director’s chair and seemed fascinated as she watched the video on the monitors. Sgt. Collins and his assistant patiently answered the myriad of questions she was asking about the technology and flight controls. I quickly realized her comment that she thought we should buy a drone was more than a passing fancy. The high point of her tutorial was when Sgt. Collins handed her a controller joystick and talked her through the complexities of turning the craft and widening the search zone. To her credit, she didn’t crash and burn. Judging from her nervous giggle and a broad grin, I suspected a drone was in our future.

I didn’t want to pull her away from her fun, but to be honest, despite the intense aerial search operation, there was nothing I could contribute to the cause. I looked around to find Rich Prince and saw he was on his phone. From the look on his face, I sensed the call wasn’t bringing good news. I started to walk over to him when I got a call on my cellphone. The caller ID told me it was US Attorney Damian Costigan in Boston. It surprised me. We’d only spoken a few times over the past weeks, as he was respecting my self-imposed exile from the criminal justice world. My first instinct was to let the call go to phone mail, but I gave in to my curiosity and answered it.

Hey, Daryl! Got a minute? I want to give you a heads up on something!

This is how it always starts, I thought to myself. What’s up, Boss?

I received a phone call from Washington. Have you heard anything about a missing girl on the Appalachian Trail down your way?

I explained I’d seen the story on the news, and in fact, was at the search scene speaking with State Police Major Rich Prince.

Oh? Has he asked you to help with the case?

I answered he had not, that I was visiting the crime scene with Mandy, more out of curiosity and moral support than anything.

Damian continued. As I said, I got a call from Washington. To be honest, what I was told took me by surprise.

The Justice Department received a phone call from Senator Blass who said one of his Georgia constituents, a Sam Powell, claims his daughter has been kidnapped and he’s demanding the FBI investigate. Apparently, this Powell guy is a mega contributor to Blass’s party, both on the State and Federal levels Reportedly, he’s a multi-millionaire from his auto sales and leasing businesses, and it appears he’s the State’s preferred vendor for most of its vehicle equipment. He claims a former employee has been threatening to expose his dealerships being awarded State and Federal contracts to provide vehicles as part of a bribery scheme. He said the guy sued him, but the case was thrown out of court last month. Now he claims he received a phone call that said his daughter would be killed if he didn’t wire one million dollars into a foreign bank account. He thinks the ex-employee is behind this.

"What? You’ve got to be kidding me! I responded in disbelief. A million-dollar ransom demand?"

I wish I was kidding, but Washington has instructed me to open an assist case to the US Attorney in Atlanta. That’s just what I don’t need right now.

I looked over at Rich Prince and saw he was still on his phone. He was sitting on a pile of logs, bent over, his free hand holding his head as if in deep concentration. He was slowly shaking his head back and forth.

Does Rich Prince know about this development?

"If he doesn’t, he soon will. This information is only a few

Reviews for The Trail To Veritas

[Kayla Parker Brooks · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Enjoyed this book. More! More! I must read more by JW!! This is my first! KB