The Butterfly Forest

THIRTY-SIX

I downloaded a picture of a coontie plant onto my phone, and then left Max with my nearest neighbors, an elderly couple who lived less than a mile from my house. Elizabeth and I drove Highway 40 into the Ocala National Forest. We turned off a series of secondary roads, hit dirt roads, and soon had tree branches slapping at the Jeep as I followed the directions I’d received from Detective Sandberg. Elizabeth had spoken with the mother of Molly’s boyfriend, Mark. And, even though the phone was held close to Elizabeth’s ear, I could hear the woman sobbing on the other line.

Detective Sandberg told me they found Molly’s car more than a half mile away from the spot where the hikers had discovered the butterfly box. I didn’t know how Elizabeth would react when she saw her daughter’s car.

After another mile, we came around a bend to find six sheriff’s cruisers, a half dozen SUV’s, two vans, and three TV news trucks not far from Molly’s car. Her blue Toyota was in the center of crime scene tape. Elizabeth held one hand to her mouth. She stared at the car for a half minute. I said nothing. Slowly, she opened the door and stepped from the Jeep. More vehicles were arriving.

As we approached Molly’s car, Detective Sandberg met us. I introduced Elizabeth to him and he said, “We can’t find any indication of a struggle. Last night’s rain pretty much eliminated any useable tire tread patterns. We’ve dusted interiors and exteriors of the car. Some prints were found, of course, but it isn’t known yet whether they were from anyone else other than Molly and Mark.”

“Where’d they find the butterfly box?” I asked.

He looked to his north. “Less than a mile that way.”

“Where are the people who found it?”

“Home, probably.” He pulled a small notepad from his shirt pocket. “Jesse and Christine Clemson. They live in Ocala. Our team is beginning a search of the area in about twenty minutes. Getting plenty of volunteers.” He looked at Elizabeth, his voice softer. “Miss Monroe, is that your daughter’s hair brush?” Pointing toward a deputy's gloved hand, he added, “It was in her car.”

“Yes,” she said. “That's Molly’s brush.”

He nodded, placed the brush in a plastic bag. “We’ll run DNA tests immediately and compare it with the evidence found on the box. Speaking of hair samples, O’Brien, we found two dark hairs on Nicole Davenport’s body, the vic in the fairy costume. No hair roots, but we’re running tests.”

A pickup truck drove slowly by us. Two large bloodhounds were in the truck bed, and two men in the front. Detective Sandberg said, “They’re some of the best tracking dogs in the state. Rain may have done a hellava number on any scent, though. But, if there’s something to be found, those dogs can find it.”

Elizabeth bit her lip as she watched the driver park the truck and lower the tailgate so the dogs could jump to the ground. The man led the dogs over to Molly’s car where they met two other forensics investigators. Elizabeth asked, “Detective Sandberg, isn’t there a possibility that Molly and Mark were abducted? They could be miles and miles away from this forest.”

“Yes, that’s a possibility.”

“But you don’t believe it happened?”

“It appears unlikely.”

“Why?”

“Why abduct two college-aged kids from a national forest and take them someplace unless kidnapping is the crime and ransom is the motive? And you’d told us you’ve received no calls or messages from kidnappers, correct?”

“Yes.”

“There’s still that possibility… it’s just that the blood on a butterfly box labeled property of the University of Florida… well, that sheds a different light on the subject.”

I said, “The key to Molly and Mark’s disappearance, more than likely, is right here. Somewhere in this forest, somebody believes Molly and Mark saw something. But what and how is it connected to Frank Soto? Could it be tied to the death of the teenage girl, Nicole Davenport? Anything on Soto’s possible whereabouts?”

“We got a report about an hour ago. A guy matching Soto’s description was spotted at a truck stop near New Orleans. FBI has been called in.”

Two forestry rangers approached us. I recognized one, Ed Crews, the man I’d met at the gravesite in the woods. The other man was older. White hair neatly parted. Rounded shoulders. He introduced himself as Adam Decker, Chief Ranger, and he told Elizabeth she could reach him anytime for anything. He gave her his cell number.

I asked him, “Who’s in the forest at any given time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know who’s roaming in here? Do they check-in at the ranger stations?”

Decker’s eyes squinted. “You mean campers?”

“Campers, hikers, hunters during season. Anyone and everyone.”

Crews nodded at his boss and said, “We know who’s registered to camp. Permits are given. Hunting season isn’t until October. Legitimate hunters register. Hikers, too, because they get trail maps, and it’s always a good idea to let us know you’re in here.”

I smiled. “Is that because, like a pilot filing a flight plan, if they don’t come back out, you know they’re probably lost in the forest?”

Crews grinned. “That’s a good way of painting a picture. It’s a huge forest, and it gets real dark in here at night. It’s easy to get lost.”

“Which means that only those wanting to be accounted for would probably register at the ranger stations? Did Molly and Mark check-in with anyone?”

Decker shook his head. “No, there’s no record of them coming or going.”

Detective Sandberg looked across the area to the search team forming and said, “The forest has its share of vagrants, what I’d call social misfits, or outright crazies living back in there. Any of these people could have been involved in the disappearance of Miss Monroe and Mr. Stewart.”

Ed Crews said, “Most stay hidden. I ran into one recently. I told you about him when the girl’s body was found in that shallow grave. An ex con who says he’s looking for Civil War artifacts.”

“We’ve interviewed three homeless guys in here,” said Detective Sandberg, “but we haven’t found a man matching the description you gave. Where’d you last see him?”

“Near Juniper Springs. He seems to move around a lot.”

“If you see him again, detain him until we can get back in here.”