“We’re done,” Nutter said to Dwayne as he started to leave.
“What do you mean, you’re done?” Dwayne demanded.
“There’s nothing else that can be done here,” continued Nutter. “Listen, some neighbor reported Danny driving through a gate with the girls in his white pickup truck over where the pond’s at.”
Dwayne was surprised—that was where Danny and he had been raised, but Danny’s vehicle had been accounted for. “Well, then, I’ll go up there and look for him,” Dwayne suggested. “Won’t do him any good if I have authorities with me. I’ll be able to talk to him if he has the girls.”
“No, no, it’s dark,” answered Nutter. “We’re liable to get someone hurt tonight. Why don’t you run up there in the morning and see if he’s there, and then you can call me if he is?” Agent Nutter went on his way.
It was interesting to me that based on what the OSBI knew at the time, they’d be so quick, not just to wrap up the investigation, but to hand it over to someone who could potentially have been a suspect.
Seeing that Nutter was on his way out that night, the Bibles approached him. “What about the girls? Aren’t you going to search for them?”
“If Danny’s got the girls, then it’s just best that we let him cool off,” Nutter told them. “It’s getting late. We’ll look for them tomorrow.”
One of my sources in law enforcement tells me that at the time, he feared Danny was actually hiding out there in the shadows or the trees, watching it all unfold with a high-powered rifle. This transpires as a common thread: a number of police officers believed that Danny was more than capable of an ambush on authorities, and it clearly unnerved them, this image of Danny, bitter in the shadows, white-knuckling a firearm with each one of them in his sights. Even before the events of that night, they all knew he wasn’t a man you wanted to be up against.
Dwayne turned to Sheriff George Vaughn, Undersheriff Mark Hayes, and ADA Clint Ward with tears of indignation in his eyes and said, “If in fact you think that Danny did this and you think he’s up there waiting on you with the girls, holding them captive, you all better get yourselves locked up on the top floor of the courthouse, because as sure as anything, Danny will be coming to kill you. If he did all this, there is no doubt in my mind.” Anger coiled around Dwayne’s sternum. After all, it was no secret that his stepbrother had long taken issue with the authorities and how they’d handled his son’s death and the subsequent investigation that past year.
The officers exhaled and began to recede, and the gold of the sun darkened to its last spit, like a flame cut off from oxygen. Winter squeezed what was left of the day from December 30, and still, no first attempts had been made to find the girls, beyond a brief check of the stream out back by Dwayne and Jay Bible. After the cops disappeared into the night, several men brought their geldings and began to comb the property via horseback. The lone headlights of several four-wheelers swept the dark undulating pastures in the distance, the echoes of men calling for Danny and the girls emanating from the shadows.
Fear could have paralyzed any parent at this point, shrouded by night without an inkling of where to look—the sudden hollowing of a person’s soul brought on by helplessness and shock and grief and fear. But not them. Not the Bibles.
The OSBI made appointments to meet with Lorene and Jay that evening, penciling them in to reconvene at the sheriff’s office in Vinita between six thirty and seven thirty.
But unbeknownst to the Bibles, as they stayed behind and formed their own search with what little light was left, was the tip that had been called in. It was the first viable lead and the only one for authorities to go on. The man who called it in was an acquaintance to most in the area. He called the law and claimed that he had seen Danny Freeman at a gas station, filling up a white Ford pickup with the two girls in the truck. “Danny isn’t going to give the girls back,” the man told dispatchers. “He won’t give them back until you give him the man who killed his son.”
It was the only lead they had—but the OSBI insisted they wait until morning to pursue it.
Darkness fell too fast for the families, leaving the hills of the prairie black and blind. The smell of the smoke chained itself to the night, and nothing much could be done until the first, agonizing break of day. It felt far. So, acting on what he learned from Nutter, Dwayne Vancil went to the old cabin where he and his siblings were raised, hoping to spot Danny, knowing that if anyone could calm him down, it was he. Jay and Lorene went to their scheduled interviews.
The lobby of the sheriff’s office in Vinita was full of people, the smell of fire stuck in their flannel and their eyes open but tired. Authorities split them up into groups before interviewing them individually, questions aimed at Danny’s affairs. Who have you seen come in and out of there? Did you ever witness Danny doing drugs? Did you ever see Mr. Freeman with large amounts of cash on hand?
“Our hands were tied,” Lorene says to me. “They questioned all of us individually. They asked us about Danny’s dealings, what kind of stuff he was into, and that’s it. All we could ask was, ‘What are you doing to find the girls?’ They said they were working on it, that they were making plans to, but they didn’t. Nobody was searching for the girls but my family. The authorities were done with the case.” According to Jay and Lorene Bible, Agent Nutter later informed them that he was in the process of entering the girls’ information into the National Crime Information Center (NCIC).
Years later, Nutter would tell me, “I believe the sheriff’s office put out a missing-persons report immediately.”
It was here that authorities told the Bibles that their prime suspect was Danny Freeman, informing them that it was their belief that Danny kidnapped the girls and was now holding them hostage. Of course, this notion had stirred in all their minds throughout the day.
The night ended with more questions than answers. Imagine the shock for a family without any information. The sickness in their stomachs swirling and sleep an impossibility without knowing what had happened to their daughter and her best friend. Each minute that passed was an unbearable strain, their faces numb with distress. It was a wonder a person could muster the strength to breathe, let alone take over the investigation—but that’s exactly what Lorene Bible was about to do.
8
* * *
THE PRIME SUSPECT
* * *
December 31, 1999
The Morning After the Fire
It was the last day of the millennium. The pink morning light appeared to create a film upon the cold creek, while roosters perched themselves on the Kansas state line, announcing the new day. But for Lorene and Jay Bible, daybreak came like the pains of childbirth. Their skin still tingled with shock after a night of being relentlessly interrogated by OSBI agents in Vinita and fighting with them to get out there and look for the girls. And now it had been over twenty-four hours since Danny, Ashley, and Lauria had vanished, and still, not a single attempt had been made by authorities to search for them.
The married couple made their way up the driveway toward what little was left of the Freeman home, shaky arm in shaky arm, with sunrise to their right. They were intent on sifting through the earth for their daughter one grain at a time. Sleep was far from them; steadfastness took the wheel. A dutiful wife, a father in mourning, a sporty girl doing her best, and a playful friend who loved life, all gone, with nothing to show for it but a blister in the earth.