The Chosen, page 14
part #13 of Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Series
She still had all her farm responsibilities she had to complete, too. She wished she had gotten sleep, but she had a feeling there would be more sleepless nights before this was all over. After all, she was the only one who could stop the Ruah. She didn’t know why she couldn’t find anything at the crime scene. Perhaps she’d have to come back later. She completed what needed to be completed and moved on.
She felt miserable. Not being as young as she once was, the staying up all hours of the night took a toll on her. She felt weak in her joints. She had dark circles under her eyes. She was too tired to bond with the animals. She simply fed them and went to lay down.
As soon as her head hit the pillow, another thought shot through her head. She quickly got up, got changed, and headed out just as her parents got out of bed. Clarice raced over to the only funeral home in town called “Celebration of Life.” It was a humble wooden building that was elegant in its design. Its classiness seemed out of place in a town like Jasper. But, everyone died at some point, so it probably got a steady stream of clients. Clarice entered into the sober, quiet building. She didn’t see anyone right away. She looked over the empty caskets on various display tables. One was her size. It had a quilted pattern on the inside and smooth wood outside. She brushed her hand across it, recounting all her close calls with death.
The funeral director approached. He was tall, gaunt, and had a gentle voice. “How might I help you?”
“I was wondering if there was a Mr. Moore here,” Clarice inquired.
Jace stepped into the room. He wore a jacket over his hoodie. “You’re the chick from the police station.”
“I thought I’d find you here.” Clarice gave the funeral director a slight smile. “Can you give us a moment?”
The director stepped out of the room.
Jace eyed Clarice.
Clarice shook his hand. “My name is Clarice.”
“Jace.”
“Do you have a moment to talk?” Clarice asked politely.
“You were the one who was acting all nosy during that diner murder a few months ago.”
“The one and only,” Clarice reluctantly admitted. “I like to stay informed about what’s happening around town and see how I can help.”
“Not everyone sees it that way,” Jace replied.
“Sometimes the truth has a cost,” Clarice said. “Between you and me, I spent years tracking down people that don’t want to be found.”
“Well, the police already found Ashley, so… what do you want from me?” Jace’s eyes were bloodshot. She could tell he was exhausted.
“I want to know if there’s anything you didn’t tell the police,” Clarice asked.
Jace eyed her suspiciously. “Why would I lie to them? You don’t think I want this killer caught? I was going to marry Ashley.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Clarice said calmly. “But because I’m not directly connected to law enforcement, I have a little more leeway in how I come across the truth. Think of this as an informal interview.”
“So you’re an investigator?”
“Not in a formal sense,” Clarice said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be handy.”
Jace wiped his leaking nose. “Okay. What do you want to know?”
“Has there been any other woman in your life. Perhaps someone who just arrived in town?”
Jace scoffed and shook his head. “You’re worse than a tabloid.”
“I’m not saying that you cheated. I’m asking about someone who might’ve approached you or that you’ve seen around lately.”
“No one,” Jace replied.
“Tell me about the night Ashley vanished.”
“I was at home, watching movies on my computer. I needed to take my mind off things,” Jace replied.
“Your browsing history would have timestamps then?” Clarice asked.
“I hadn’t thought about it.” He pulled out his phone. Having all his accounts linked to one email address, he was able to see the various timestamps in the computer’s history, confirming that he was watching movies and searching the web the whole night.
“Screenshot that,” Clarice said. “If the police start to suspect you, you’ll have evidence you weren’t involved.”
Jace seemed pleasantly surprised by the advice. “Uh, thanks.”
Clarice looked around to see if Ruah were oppressing him but saw no signs. From all accounts, he was an innocent man.
“Where did Ashley work at?”
“The Dollar General. It’s only part-time.”
She asked him more personal questions. For her point of view, the man was innocent. She’d have to find another method of finding her answers. She gave Jace her number and told him to call if there was anything he wanted to share.
“Why are you so concerned with this case?” Jace asked. “You didn’t know Ashley.”
“We’ll call it human decency.”
“Psh. If there is such thing.”
Clarice headed to the Dollar General and asked the other workers about Ashley. They didn’t tell her any useful information.
Unsure where to turn, she returned to the scene of the crime. The police had already come and gone. Clarice called Matthews, asking if they found anything else. He had no luck. Clarice needed some way to keep up the momentum. She headed to the tree where Ashley was found. There were imprints on the dirt where her knees had been. A small coat of snow covered the ground. Clarice circled the tree, wondering why the Ruah chose this place and why she carved into the woman’s back. Was it just for random, or was there something that pointed to a bigger picture? If the latter, what did that look like, and how did Clarice fit into the equation? She hiked through the field, staying in the footprints of the police officers. She didn’t want to raise suspicion in case they came back to canvas the field. She reached the place where she found the fingernail.
Matthews called her.
Clarice answered. “What’s up?”
“I have an update,” Matthews said.
“Good or bad?” Clarice asked.
“Good. We’ve identified the woman you claimed was Ashley’s killer,” Matthews replied.
Clarice’s heart rate quickened. “Who is it?”
“Linda Grassley. I reached out to a detective who had previously worked on the various missing persons you mentioned. Anyway, he had come to the same conclusion that you had. That she was tied to multiple disappearances.”
“Send me her picture,” Clarice suggested.
“I already have.”
Clarice pulled her phone away from her ear and checked the text. She clicked on the photograph of a beautiful fifty-year-old woman. She had black hair, serpentine eyes, and high cheekbones. Memories bombarded Clarice. “That’s the one.”
“Walkens and Cain have put out an APB. I have to warn you, though. You’re still part of the suspect list.”
“I thought as much,” Clarice replied.
“I’ll keep you posted. If things turn out alright, I imagine that the fingernail will link back to Linda. What should I do if I find her?”
“Call me. I’ll need to pay her a visit while she’s in captivity to make sure the Ruah doesn’t jump to someone else,” Clarice replied. “If there is some way I can reach her before she gets arrested, that would be preferred. I’d rather see her set free than in jail like Clawford.”
“She murdered someone and attacked you,” Matthews told Clarice information she already knew. “I don’t think she’s going to get a second chance.”
“If I can get her before the cops do, I’m going to let her walk,” Clarice said. “She’s a victim in all this too.”
“I hope you’re right,” Matthews made his doubt known through his tone of voice. “Anyway, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“You’ve got it,” Clarice replied. “Keep up the good work, Matthews.”
“Uh, thank you,” Matthews replied. “Oh, one last thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Sorry I’ve been so distant these last few months. I know it sounds cheesy, but I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate how much you’ve helped me.”
Clarice smiled to herself. “Don’t mention it.”
“Talk to you soon.”
“Uh huh.”
Clarice ended the call. She held her smile, happy to have an ally. It was good to see the case moving along, too. She only wished she was more involved with the action.
She marched through the fields. She saw a few broken leaves of hay caught her eye. It looked as though someone had stepped on it, but it had to have been before the police investigated because there were no footprints. Curious, she followed the trail of broken leaves across the field to the point where the murder tree was hardly visible. That’s when she saw the hump of snow.
She brushed the snow aside, revealing a mound of frozen dirt.
It was roughly the size of a body.
Another victim?
Clarice’s pulse quickened. She made sure her gloves were secure before removing the dirt. She brushed away more, revealing a woman’s rotting hand. There was a gash where her middle fingernail should’ve been.
15
Decay
The police swarmed the field. Photographers snapped pictures of the body. Clarice stood off to the side and chewed her nail. Matthews took down her statement. Talking to other cops, Walkens gave Clarice the evil eye.
“I wanted to take a look at the crime scene,” Clarice said. “I followed what appeared to be a trail and there she was.”
She imagined finding the body wouldn’t improve her reputation. Why? Because the rotted cadaver belonged to Linda Grassley, the woman whom she blamed for killing Ashley.
The local police exhumed the body. The woman wore a leather jacket, turtleneck, and winter pants. She had a large, self-inflicted gash in her neck, as if she stabbed herself without hesitation. Her knife was still embedded.
The police were scratching their heads, trying to figure out how their lead suspect was not only dead, but was a cadaver over a week old. Clarice knew in her gut that the Ruah had changed hosts. Anyone and everyone was a suspect now.
Walkens approached Clarice. “This is the woman who attacked you all those years ago?”
“Correct,” Clarice admitted.
“And you were the one who found her?”
“I just told Officer Matthews that, so yes,” Clarice replied.
“I think it would be best if you come to the station for questioning,” Walkens said.
Clarice knew that was coming. “I’ll take my car.”
“You’ll ride with us,” Walkens replied. “It’ll be quicker.”
That was a BS answer, but Walkens wasn’t the person Clarice wanted to piss off. She waited in the back of his squad car for twenty minutes while he finished giving orders. He drove her back to the station. Clarice sat silently. She knew her rights and wasn’t going to have Walkens use anything against her. That being said, bringing in a lawyer would only make her appear more suspicious. If this were a big city, she’d get the lawyer right away. In a small town, any more rumors could spell her death. She imagined that the discovery of the body would be common knowledge by tomorrow.
Walkens led Clarice into the interrogation room. She took a seat at a wooden table. Walkens sat across from her. Matthews stood behind him, silently apologizing with his sympathetic eyes. Clarice leaned back in the chair, trying to hide her nervousness behind her casual posture. Inside, her heart raced. “I could’ve answered any of your questions back at the crime scene.”
Walkens ignored her response. “I tried to find your hospital report from four years ago when you said Linda abducted you. There was nothing there.”
“I didn’t go to an official doctor,” Clarice said. “It cost less and saved me the paperwork.”
“We checked the police database to see if you reported the assault charges. There was no record of that either.”
The room started heating up. She was a toad in boiling water. Walkens cranked up the temperature.
Clarice replied, “I assure you, Sergeant, I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You told us less than twenty-four hours ago that you were abducted and physically assaulted by an unnamed woman, presumably Linda Grassley. But there is no way for you to prove any of it,” Walkens said.
“I believe my scars are a pretty good reminder. You want to see them again?” Clarice wished she could take back her words. She instantly regretted giving the man lip.
Walkens tapped his finger on the table. His glare was death.
Matthews stepped up and spoke quietly into Walkens’s ear. “For what it's worth, I believe Clarice’s story.”
“Duly noted, Officer.” He trained his glare back on Clarice. “Tell me where you were every night this week.”
“At my father’s ranch. I take care of the horses and help around the house.”
“Every night?”
“You can ask my parents. The only two nights that were different was when I met Matthews at the Rusty Spur. Last night, I was here.”
“And four years ago, when you were supposedly abducted, when exactly did that happen?” Walkens interrogated.
“It was the middle of July in Yellow Rock. I held there for a couple of days.” Clarice said. “I was rescued by a woman named Alex. She stitched me up, and we went on our separate ways.”
“Alex who?”
“Alexandra Baker.”
Walkens glanced over to Matthews. He quickly wrote down the name.
Walkens directed his attention back to Clarice. “Where can we find Ms. Baker?”
“I don’t know,” Clarice admitted. “We haven’t been in contact for a year.”
“So let me get this straight: you were captured, abused, rescued, and treated by a woman you don’t know where to find. Even after four years, you never went to the police or a hospital. And now you show up here, claiming that a certain woman killed Ashley McDowell. The day afterward, you just happen upon her body. That’s a lot of coincidences.”
“Should I be getting a lawyer?” Clarice asked.
Walkens scrutinized Clarice. “I don’t know, Ms. Holburg. Should you?”
Clarice crossed her arms. “I’d prefer not to go down that route. Officer Matthews, if you would be so kind as to contact my parents - Davis and Hannah Holburg. They’re my alibis for the last few months. You have free rein to check my Challenger’s glove box for gas receipts to see what nights I went out. You’ll be very disappointed that I don’t do much outside the family ranch.”
Walkens directed Matthews to do so. He told Clarice to wait in the room and left as well.
Elbows on the table, she rested her face in her palms. It felt like her world was closing in. She knew that the American justice system didn’t always honor truth, but she thought transparency was her best bet. It was a risky move, but it kept her from getting caught in a net of lies. If things got bad enough that charges were pressed against her, she’d get a lawyer. If it went to court and people started to question her, she’d tell them about the Ruah she’d been tracking and plead insanity. That was the absolute worst-case scenario. She tried her best not to think of it right now.
Minutes of waiting turned into hours. With her nerves shot, Clarice rested her head on the table and fell asleep. She dreamed of Linda Grassley standing amidst the field. Her pale, decaying flesh had blotches of discoloration. Dirt covered her body. A chef’s knife protruded from her neck. She stared at Clarice with unblinking eyes before starting to laugh.
“Ms. Holburg.”
Walkens’s voice jolted her awake.
Clarice sat up, realizing that she’d drooled on her hand. She wiped it on top of her thigh. She looked up at the sergeant and waited for him to talk.
He seemed disappointed and angry. “You’re free to go.”
“Oh,” Clarice said and got to her feet. Her body reacted poorly to waking up so suddenly. Her eyes were still heavy-lidded, and the lack of sleep from the previous night bore down on her. She walked out into the hall and down the corridor, noticing the wall clock. It was 9pm. She’d been in there for almost five hours. She found her parents waiting for her in the reception area. Her father showed sympathy. Her mother showed disappointment.
She climbed into the backseat of her father’s truck, wondering how many times they’d have to pick her up from jail. She aimed to make this the last.
“How are you?” Davis asked.
Clarice shrugged.
There was venom in Hannah’s voice. “You’ve caused this family a great deal of stress.”
“Sorry,” Clarice replied, but apparently it didn’t sound sincere enough. Hannah didn’t even look at her during the rest of the car ride.
They got home. Hannah told Clarice there were leftovers in the fridge and went to bed. Davis followed. After Clarice had microwaved and eaten her dinner, she thought about skipping town. Everything she owned fit into her duffel bag. She could easily leave. It would piss off a lot of people and raise a million red flags, but it would be better than being tormented in this invisible prison of false accusations and familial dissonance. After Alex vanished, Clarice thought she was done living dishonestly and tracking Ruah. She thought she’d spend some time laying low and enjoying the simple pleasures of life. Looking back, it was a pipe dream. The temptation to run grew stronger. She didn’t owe any of these people anything. Her work was discredited at every turn, not that she did this for fame and glory, but it would be nice to get credit where it was due. The more she thought about this, the less she cared about trying to solve this town’s problems.
Unexpectedly, her father walked in and took a seat at the table. He was a handsome cowboy that had put on some weight since he retired. He had a soft face and strong jaw. He wore glasses with magnifiers, a long-sleeved shirt with suspenders, and light blue jeans that covered his long underwear. “Heavy night, huh?”
Davis usually avoided deep conversations. He tended to avoid confrontations at all cost.
Clarice shrugged. She felt like she was a teenager again. Being home had that effect on her.
