Page 36 of Long Pig
It was two months before he took another run to L.A. He did, however, look up the case at a library in Colorado.
It took three days before Cindy’s body was discovered. The smell attracted the attention of a state worker who cleaned the rest stop. The police had no leads or suspects. The nervous tension Butch had lived with since the murder dissipated.
His exhilaration over killing Cindy increased as he replayed her expressions repeatedly in his mind. The need to kill again burned deep inside him, eating at his evil soul. He would perfect his style and not take so many risks. His days of prolific murders were coming.
Butch’s attention turned to the land in northeast Arizona. He studied the vast area and felt more and more like he’d found the perfect place. The property he was interested in had noelectrical hookup or water, but the area had one of the largest aquifers in the southwest. Hitting water for a well was almost guaranteed. Propane was readily available, so he had the power end of things taken care of too.
It didn’t take a lot of money to support himself. This meant his savings account was growing. It would give him enough to build a house and a garage for the truck. He would need a special work area too. He began fantasizing about that in particular.
After he purchased the property, he would take more runs outside of Arizona. Killing in his own backyard was too risky. If he stuck to what he’d learned from the true crime magazines, he would never be caught.
Several runs back east came in before a New Mexico job. He wouldn’t stick around for a return delivery this time; he wanted to check out the property in Arizona, which was eighty miles from where he would drop the load. The run took him through the Navajo, Hopi, and Pueblo reservations. He couldn’t believe the number of hitchhikers, often teenage girls, he saw along the route.
One man’s wasteland was another man’s hunting ground.
He didn’t pick anyone up. Killing was a fever in his blood, and he didn’t want to feel that deeper burn of temptation that happened with Cindy. He was an expert at curtailing his wants and needs. He’d done it since he was young.
The land office was a tiny stone building just inside the small, unincorporated town of Concho. It was located a half mile from an old Catholic Church. He smiled when he saw the building because it reminded him of the movie he saw that explained the Eucharist.
Jesus declared,"Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you."
Those words stuck with Butch. After years of steering clear of God, he now believed his fantasies had religious connotations, and God was using him to punish those he deemed unworthy of life. The more Butch learned about life and death, the more convinced he became that he was fulfilling a prophecy and God had a special plan for him. It wasn’t the same God his mother preached about who denied sexual gratification, it was the God of death who killed so many in the bible. People claimed Satan as evil, but he was only responsible for killing a handful of people at God’s behest, while God killed millions. In Butch’s eyes, Satan was a wimp and God showed the hand of retribution just as Butch did.
When Butch entered the land office, he was greeted by a man named Marty Laroo. He looked to be in his late forties, dressed rather shabbily with dirty sneakers on his feet. It wasn’t a good first impression, but Butch didn’t want to be his friend and shook it off.
“Name’s Larry,” he said. “I called a week ago about land information at Juniper Springs Ranch.” Larry was the name on his driver’s license. Butch was the name of a killer.
“We can take a ride if you’d like,” the land manager said. “It’s desolate, but pretty country for the right person.”
They traveled down the highway for forty minutes then turned onto a dirt road that had more twists and turns than Butch could follow. There was no question. This was the place.
“How hard is it to get contractors out here?” he asked.
“There’s a large outfit in Show Low that does jobs throughout the county. I can give you their number, and they can map out a timeline.”
When they arrived at the lot, Butch looked at the shrub grass, juniper trees, and endless hills. He bent down and grabbed a handful of sand. It trailed through his fingers as possibilities filled his head.
“Who would be my closest neighbor?” he asked.
“Won’t have any for a bit,” Marty replied. “There are a few owners at the gate entrance where they have electricity, but no one off grid yet. The side of this piece of property borders BLM land, and it goes clear to New Mexico. No one lives on it. The family who owns the ranch is slowly breaking parcels up since their grandfather died. Large Mormon family with like twelve kids. Only two want to run cattle, which was what the land was intended for. There are a few restrictions if you decide to buy. Cows have grazing rights. If you want them to stay off your property, it’s up to you to build a fence. You can’t own cows or other livestock either. Chickens are fine, but it’s hard to keep them alive with the coyotes. There’s a twenty-dollar reward for coyote ears if you get a hankering to shoot some. This is cattle country, and the ranchers pay to keep predator numbers down.”
Butch had no interest in killing coyotes, but he nodded. He’d found his home. After he could set up shop, his secrets would stay buried, even though he would be the largest predator in the area.
“Do you think my rig will have trouble getting out here?” he asked. They’d taken Marty’s four-wheel drive and left his rig in the land office parking lot.
“Winters can get rough, but the ranch owner hires a plow to keep the road in decent shape. The river washes flood and sometimes you need to wait out the water. I had to sit for an hour once, but that’s the only time I’ve had trouble.”
“Let’s go back to your office so I can look at the paperwork,” Butch said.
Marty smiled the entire drive back to Concho.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dancing the Two Step
Willow
Two days later, Chief Deputy Cosby called. He asked Willow to come to the sheriff’s department to speak with him.