Thirteen Years of Dust

~1~

When I first met Karen Linford, she was already dead. Murdered and six feet deep for more than a dozen years. She'd been stabbed by a coward and left to bleed out in front of a no-tell motel room, two blocks over from East Exchange Street in Akron, Ohio. There were no witnesses or suspects and the half-assed investigation that followed went nowhere. It seems Akron's finest didn't have any leads to go on and the homicide detectives were sitting around with itchy scalps. Eventually, her case grew icicles. Their main problem, in my opinion, was they didn't have yours truly, Duke Bradley, on the job. I caught the case thirteen years later.

Now this was back before I got rich and famous with my name in the papers all the time. I owe all of that to Karen Linford. Her case saved my skin and introduced me to Shriya. Shriya restored a little bit inside of me that had been lost or eaten up a long time ago. She says I'm still obsessive about Karen's case. Maybe I am. I still remember every detail.

It was 4:30 a.m. on a butt-cold Wednesday morning in November. Akron, Ohio. I was at my desk with the phone pressed to my ear, listening to the purr of the ring tone and trying to get my Marlboro lit with a broken lighter. I had the newspaper from the day before in front of me open to page two and I was cursing myself for not reading it earlier.

I was calling my old partner, Joel Conrad, I knew he'd be awake. I threw the lighter into the trashcan and searched around on my desktop for a pack of matches.

After four and a half rings and two match sticks, Joel's voice came through the receiver. He didn't say hello. He just said his name.

"Joel, it's Duke," I spit out. "Been a long time."

"Yep." His monotone response right away revealed his apprehension. "You drunk?"

"Nah, I'm off the hooch finally, been two years, well almost. Listen, I need your help. What do you know about this new cold case unit?"

"The one down there in Akron?" he asked like he forgot where I lived.

"Yeah. Akron, Ohio."

"Not much, to tell you the truth. I heard they were looking for volunteers a while back, but then they volunteered people. You know, agents who weren't making it."

"Second rate guys?"

"More like scraping the bottom." He stifled a yawn. "Mostly field agents that have been reprimanded for something or they had nowhere else to stick them. I can tell you, not one of them wanted that position."

"Why not?"

"Don't get me wrong, Duke, but it's not exactly the most exciting position in the FBI. It's a dead end division. They're dealing with crimes that have been in the wind for years. And they're answering to the State's Attorney, kinda on loan. What's your interest in it?" He paused and his voice volume dropped a little. To be sincere. "I don't think they'll take you back, Duke. Not after Bay Springs."

Bay Springs, Mississippi. It had been three years since we talked and he just couldn't wait to bring that up.

"Forget about Bay Springs, Joel," I said. "I want in on this reward money."

"I have no idea what you are talking about, but I'm listening."

I went into it and he paid attention with a few hmm's and mm-hmm's. Joel was my partner for seventeen years. I know how he thinks. And he owes me one.

I told him how I couldn't sleep so I picked up the newspaper and saw this article on page two. The FBI's new cold case initiative, in cahoots with the Ohio Attorney General, was promising five grand to anyone who can give information leading to an arrest in the 2001 murder of Karen Linford. And then I explained how my mental rolodex started whirling like a pinwheel in a windstorm and his number shot out. I had cooked up this idea on how I could get in on it. Sort of help out and just collect the reward money. It took me a little while to convince him that this was a hell of an idea. That my plan would work.