AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Wytheville, Virginia Wednesday, May 31, 2023 7:32 p.m.
THE GPS ESTIMATED THE DRIVE TO WYTHEVILLE, VIRGINIA, WOULD take five hours. Alex took her time, drove in the middle lane, and allowed her mind to roam. She’d snuck out of the office early and was on the highway and the open road by 2:30 p.m. She should have been frantic. She should have driven like a lunatic. She should have been desperate to get to Wytheville, Virginia, where the detective who worked the Jerry Lolland case lived. Detective Martin Crew had agreed to meet Alex and discuss everything he remembered about the Camp Montague case from 1981. With potential answers waiting, Alex should have been filled with urgency and anxiousness. Instead, she drove the limit and allowed other cars to zip around her.
Ten years of torment and searching was coming to an end. Alex had dreamt of this moment. During her sleeping hours she had often imagined a similar scene where the mystery of her family’s death was on the other side of the proverbial door she’d encounter during her dreams. All she needed to do was open that door for the answers to spill forth. But during those dreams something had always stopped her. The door had no handle or was bolted with the only lock she’d ever found that she could not pick. But now, here she was, driving to meet a detective who might hold the key to that door. She should be speeding. She should be restless. Instead, Alex was filled with sorrow for what she feared she might find.
Wytheville was situated in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, had a population of eight thousand, and a hotel résumé to match. Alex pulled into town at just past 7:30 p.m. Detective Crew had agreed to meet on short notice but could not do so until eight o’clock. Alex knew she wouldn’t be able to make the hours-long drive back to DC after her meeting, so she found a motel on the edge of town, paid for a single night, and pulled her car to the front of room 109. She exited the car, then keyed the door and entered. Small but clean, the room offered a full bed, nightstand, and dresser with a television. She set her overnight bag on the bed, brushed her teeth, and applied a dark shade of lipstick to match her mood. She locked the door on the way out and drove into town. The Sly Fox, whose name was displayed in red neon along with glowing Budweiser and Pabst Blue Ribbon signs, was located on a corner in the middle of the main drag.
Inside, Alex saw an older man sitting at the bar and, since the establishment was otherwise empty, deduced that he must be Martin Crew. Country music played from unseen speakers and a television behind the bar showed a baseball game. She walked up to the man.
“Detective Crew?”
“Alex Armstrong?” the man asked, offering a sideways glance at Alex’s piercings and tattoos.
Alex nodded. “Yeah, thanks for meeting on such short notice.”
“When I heard you were willing to drive all the way from DC to talk, I knew it was something urgent.”
“The drive wasn’t bad, about five hours.”
“It’s not the length of the drive that’s got me curious, it’s the fact that you’re the second person in two weeks who’s tracked me down about a pedophile camp counselor who killed himself forty-plus years ago. It was a prickly case back then, and I was never satisfied with its conclusion. The fact that it’s somehow resurrecting itself this many years later has my attention. I’m as curious to know why you’re interested in this case as you are to hear what I have to say.”
“Let’s talk.”
Alex took the stool next to the detective.
“What are you drinking?” Detective Crew asked.
“Soda and lime.”
The detective waved down the bartender.
“So,” Crew said. “Is your inquiry related to Dr. Lane Phillips contacting me a week or so back?”
“It is,” Alex said. “Well, technically, his inquiry was related to mine. Either way, I’m hoping you might be able to provide the answers I’m looking for.”
“Fire away. I hope to get some myself.”
“I’m a legal investigator for a big firm up in DC. There’ve been some interesting developments with a few of the firm’s clients, brought to my attention by Dr. Phillips.”
“What sort of developments, how interesting, and what’s it got to do with Jerry Lolland?”
“Maybe nothing, but that’s what I’m here to figure out. A few of the firm’s clients have died under suspicious circumstances, and Dr. Phillips managed to link the deaths, possibly, back to Jerry Lolland’s suicide. Can you tell me what you remember about the case?”
“Now I’m more curious than ever. The Lolland case was a while ago, but after I got a call from Dr. Phillips, I headed back into the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office. I worked there for twenty years before I did detective work for the state, so I still had some people I could reach out to.”
“You were a detective for the state of Virginia?”
“Yes, that’s how I got involved with the Jerry Lolland case.”
“Was it typical to call in state investigators for a suicide?”
“No, not at all. We got called in because of the kiddie porn that was found around Lolland’s body.”
“Right, can you tell me about that?”
“Camp Montague was a prestigious summer camp in the area, just about ten miles from Wytheville. People sent their kids there from all over the state and even farther. It was an eight-week summer camp that taught teenagers independence and helped them make the transition into college. You know, typical camp mantra. At least, that’s how the place was billed. Montague shut down after Jerry Lolland’s suicide and the scandal that followed. Lolland was one of the longtime counselors. He basically ran the place and was in charge of recruitment, too. If a parent was interested in sending their kid to Montague, they met with Jerry Lolland to hear the camp’s pitch, all that Montague had to offer, and how safe their children would be. It was chilling to learn that this man preyed on the very children he recruited.”
“Tell me how you found out about Jerry Lolland and his abuse against children.”
