Page 23

THEY FOUND MORE THAN fifteen articles about the case, but the retrospective piece in the Boise newspaper was the longest and most comprehensive.

The gist was that an unknown knife-wielding assailant had murdered Patricia and Norman Wheeler in their summer cabin on Alice Lake near Sun Valley, Idaho, early in the morning of July 14. The Wheelers were found in adjacent bedrooms.

“‘Both Patricia, thirty-six, and Norman, thirty-nine, were stabbed in the heart as they slept in adjoining rooms,’” Bree read. “‘Their nine-year-old sons, Ryan and Sean, were sleeping in their favorite place, a bedroom in the boathouse down by the lake. When their parents did not come down with breakfast to be eaten on the dock, a Wheeler tradition, the boys went back to the house, discovered the bodies, and frantically called 911.’”

Sampson said, “That would mess a kid up.”

Much of the rest of the story was based on interviews with former detectives from the Blaine County sheriff’s department and the Idaho state police. The weapon was never found, but forensics determined that the knife used on the Wheelers was a ten-inch fillet knife, something the couple did not own.

There was no unaccounted-for DNA in the cabin or anywhere else on the property, including the boathouse. They had no enemies that anyone knew of. And there was no apparent motive.

Norman Wheeler had been a successful bond trader in San Francisco. An audit of Norman’s accounts showed zero signs of malfeasance. Patricia was known for her volunteer work. Both husband and wife were highly regarded in California and in the little lake community they’d come to know and love. Patricia had rehabbed the cabin they’d bought as a getaway, made it their own.

They did not keep cash on hand. Patricia’s jewelry was untouched.

There was no indication either of them had ever had an extramarital affair.

The story also detailed various initial suspects in the case who had ultimately been cleared, including the boys.

“‘Sheriff’s detectives quickly took Ryan and Sean off their list. The boys were devastated by the loss and the boathouse had an alarm system that showed them inside the entire night,’” Bree read. “‘By all accounts, the Wheelers were a loving couple who lavished attention on their sons, who were later adopted by a relative back east. Sheriff’s detectives have been working the case on and off for three and a half decades. They still have no solid suspects or motive.’”

Bree looked up at Sampson. “What do you think?”

“For some reason, the kids’ last name was changed from Wheeler to Malcomb,” John said. “If they were adopted by the Alcotts, why didn’t they change the last name to Alcott or May?”

“Good point,” Bree said, noting it on a pad.

“Let’s talk to the lead detective there, the one with the Idaho police,” John said. “Finley Oakes.”

Sampson called the Bureau and was told Oakes had long ago retired and now lived in Bonners Ferry in northern Idaho. They found him on a Google search and called him.

“Finn Oakes,” he said. “Who’s this?”

John put the call on speaker and identified himself and then Bree. When they told him they were running down some loose ends that had made them interested in the old Wheeler case, the former detective said he remembered it all like yesterday.

“Rural Idaho, you just don’t see that kind of thing,” Oakes said. “Double homicide like that. No DNA. No weapon. No motive. No likely suspects.”

“We understand the sons were hysterical,” Bree said.

“Pitiful state,” Oakes said. “Those kids adored their parents. Ryan sobbed for days. Sean went catatonic but refused to leave his brother’s side. Maybe I would have done the same thing if those rumors were true, that they’d been adopted twice.”

“What?” Sampson and Bree said.

“Yeah, Patricia couldn’t have kids. The Wheelers adopted Ryan and Sean when they were infants. Private, black-market kind of thing. We didn’t find that out until years later.”