Crime Scene Cover-Up, page 2
He stepped into the burned-out house. “You look at who the victims were, the crime scene and the organizational level of the crime, right?”
“Yes, exactly.” His answer surprised her. She was flattered that he understood the details of her job.
He shrugged. “I took a class once.”
Mentally, she chided herself for her own prejudice. She needed to quit making assumptions about him. “First, you look at the victims, to find some kind of pattern. But there’s not a lot there. I have done countless interviews of people who knew each of the victims, retraced their steps days before the crime. Nothing stands out.” She put her hands on her hips, still looking at the charred living room. “The crime scene yields very little because of the destruction of evidence.”
“With the last murder, when you were here before, you said that the organizational level of the killer had to have been pretty high. Isn’t that the third thing you look at?”
The words when you were here before echoed through her brain. For this kind of killer, breaking a pattern was significant. Before she’d been run off the road, she would have presumed that the killer had returned here because he had some kind of tie to the area. But now she wondered if she was part of the equation. What if he wanted to lure her back here, to a place of unresolved pain, to get rid of her?
A shiver ran down her back at the notion. She paced some more, taking in every detail of the house. “We know for sure he’s highly conscientious. Nothing about his crimes seem to be impulsive. To find a time to set a house on fire when there will be no witnesses takes some calculation.”
“In a county this sparsely populated, people notice when someone shows up or moves away. So that probably means he’s in the community and part of it for some time before he commits the crime. If this is not a copycat, your theory last time was that he sticks around for a while so as not to draw attention by leaving right after the crime.”
The possibility that this was a copycat had crossed her mind, too. “I think he has a pretty big ego. He likes to watch the aftermath of the damage he’s done.”
She looked around at the scorched living room—the blackened furniture, the half-burned curtains and everywhere the stench of smoke. From what she could see of what was left, the victim had had a taste for antiques. “Is there any way we can figure out the movements of the victim leading up to the day she died?”
“Her name was Betty Richards. No one had seen her for days. Betty had been talking about going to visit her son down in Atlanta. The neighbors thought she’d already left.”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t call her the victim. We get used to a certain dehumanizing vocabulary.” She’d read the bare-bones profile of Betty Richards. Arielle looked around. The crime scene tape rippled in the wind. “Has the son been notified?”
“Yes. Betty was the kind of a woman who kept to herself. Lived here less than a year... The neighbors didn’t seem to know a lot about her.”
Her job was to try to get inside the mind of the person who had done this.
All the crime scenes were close to something that would attract tourists—a national park, a ski resort. One theory was that he was some sort of seasonal worker. It was helping to talk through the case. “Unless he is independently wealthy, which is a possibility, we are not sure how he finances his moves.”
“Someone new to town would be noticed around here. Especially someone with money, unless they really kept it on the down low.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He shifted his weight. “It’s possible a person could be holed up in a cabin somewhere out of town and fly under the radar.”
She examined each inch of the kitchen and living room. “We don’t know that much about the stats of our killer. We can conclude that the killer is probably a younger man, at least under forty, and probably in good shape based on the nature of the crimes and the physical strength required. The murders have occurred far enough apart that he would have time to establish himself in a community, so he wouldn’t call attention by being new, since he prefers small towns and rural areas.”
She walked the perimeter of what was left of the living room. The house was a single-level two bedroom. Even without seeing the arson report, it was clear the fire had been set in the living room. She suspected the manner in which it was started, the use of a timing device, would resemble the other crimes. She stared out a window that had been shattered, probably by the firefighters. Though the curtains were charred, it looked like they had been pulled shut to prevent the neighbors from seeing anything. This guy was methodical, not missing a single detail.
She clenched her teeth. In her time with the bureau, she’d closed a dozen important cases, but this one continued to elude her. She turned slowly, hoping something would pop out as significant. She’d already spent hours poring over the reports, witness statements and crime scene photos from all the previous crimes. But nothing compared to actually being at the crime scene.
“Do you need a minute alone? I can step outside.”
Sheriff Cobain was being nothing but cooperative, and yet every time she looked at him, she thought of Craig. “Thank you.” She appreciated that he seemed to understand her method for taking in a crime scene.
He left the house. She watched him walk past a side window where the curtain had been pulled open. He must be circling the perimeter, looking for any missed clues.
Arielle walked through the house to get a sense of who Betty was. The smoke damage made her throat feel gunked up, and she sneezed several times. The living room, where the body had been found, was nearly decimated. The fires might not be only to destroy evidence but part of the thrill of the process. Her investigation involved looking at other arson cases Agent Ferris dug up in each of the areas where the murders had occurred. Maybe the suspect had taken practice runs and left behind evidence.
She entered the victim’s bedroom after peering in the other bedroom, which seemed to have been used as an office/craft and storage area. The bed was made. The room was tidy. By all appearances, Betty was an older woman of middle-class means. Arielle examined the contents of each of the bureau drawers. She opened and closed a jewelry box that contained only costume jewelry.
She finished walking through the house and met the sheriff outside.
“You ready to go?”
She nodded.
Once they were in the car and on the road, Sheriff Cobain spoke up. “After we go by the clinic to have you looked at, I can drop you off at the garage where your rental car was taken. Randy will probably have checked things out and at least know if he can get it running.”
“Actually, I would rather be dropped off at the house where I’m staying. One of the other agents can give me a ride to the garage later.” She wanted to get back to the vacation rental. Zoe and her mom should be there by now. “I really don’t want to deal with a medical exam right now. I know I said I would, but I just can’t. The clock is ticking on this case.”
He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “I can’t make you do anything.”
She was glad he didn’t press the point.
They drove for several minutes in silence.
“So, what happened back there? It wasn’t just a case of out-of-control road rage, was it? I saw the text.”
She laced her fingers together and took in a breath even as her heart pounded. “Who else would be threatening me like that but the killer?”
“True, you haven’t been her long enough for anyone to have a vendetta against you. So either it was the killer or you were chosen at random.”
Arielle felt suddenly vulnerable. Not how she wanted to come across when she was around the sheriff. To work this case, she needed his help, but she also wanted to keep things professional. “It appears that way.”
He entered the outskirts of town. Both stoplights were green as he rolled down Main Street. The town had a hardware store, two restaurants, a steak house and a Chinese place, and the usual collection of antique/thrift stores and a post office.
“Look, if you need some extra protection...”
“I’m sure the other agents will help me out.” She hadn’t intended for her comment to sound so defensive.
At the edge of town, they passed the sheriff’s office, a brick building set apart from the rest of Main Street. “Suit yourself.” His response was just a little curt. “I’ve got to be with you anyway as your tour guide for the county. I’m sure the other agents have their hands full. I just thought...”
This was so awkward. Maybe she could request the deputy help her out with interviews of locals and navigating the area.
She wasn’t sure what to say.
They came to the edge of town. “Where are you staying?”
“It’s the Stuben cabin.”
“I heard they made that into a vacation rental.”
He turned off on a two-lane road that wound past fields filled with cows.
“It has great Wi-Fi and is quiet, so I can work uninterrupted.”
They pulled up to the cabin. Arielle saw her mother’s car parked in the driveway. She got out in anticipation of seeing her daughter. The door burst open, and Zoe ran out with Denise Blake trailing behind the little girl.
“There’s my ladybug.” Arielle gathered the love of her life into her arms, taking in the warmth and sweet toddler smell. Zoe’s silky blond hair brushed against her cheek. She addressed her mother. “Did you have a good trip?”
“Zoe and I had a delightful drive,” said Denise. “She was such a good girl.”
Arielle swung around. Neil stood on the stone walkway. He had removed his cowboy hat and was twirling it around. Shock seemed to reverberate through his voice. “I didn’t realize you had a child.”
“Sheriff Cobain, this is Zoe, and my mom, Denise Blake.”
Neil nodded. His lips pressed together, communicating uneasiness.
She put her daughter down on the ground. “Go on in with Grandy. Mama will be in in a second.”
Zoe waved at the sheriff as Denise reached out for her tiny hand. Arielle waited until the door shut before turned to face the sheriff.
“She looks like her father.” He seemed visibly shaken. “I didn’t know.”
“Neither did I. Not until days after the funeral.”
“I am truly sorry about your husband.” Neil’s voice faltered.
“Me, too. It’s been a tough couple of years. Losing him and facing raising Zoe alone has made my faith deeper. That is strange gift of all this struggle. I couldn’t do this single-mom thing without God.” The tightness through her chest and throat indicated that talking about the past caused sadness she could normally keep in check to rise to the surface.
“It never should have happened...that night.”
“What do you mean?” The level of accusation in her voice surprised her.
He opened his mouth as if to answer but then changed the subject. “Are you going to be okay out here...considering what happened on the road earlier?”
She didn’t like that he was evasive. “I’ll let the other agents know what happened. And, Sheriff Cobain, I know I spend most of my time hunched over a computer or reading reports, but I am a trained agent.” Knowing that Zoe was going to be with her, she had locked her gun away.
“You might want to think about getting a place in town.”
“I’ll consider my options. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She turned and headed toward the cabin. There was a part of her that wanted to revisit what he was about to say about Craig and a part of her that didn’t want to know. It would only bring up more turmoil and make it harder to focus on her work.
She stepped inside the cabin, where Zoe waited for her on the sofa holding her favorite stuffed animal and a book. The house had an open layout without any walls between the kitchen and living room.
“Read me a story?”
Her mom was busy in the kitchen.
“Sure, honey.” Work could wait. She’d read the files once Zoe went down for her nap or after bedtime. From the time she had found out she was pregnant, she’d vowed to make her little girl her priority.
Through the front window, she could see the sheriff get in his car and head down the long driveway. Did he have something to do with Craig’s death? They had been the only two men on the stakeout that night.
“What on earth...” said Denise.
Arielle closed the book and angled her body toward the kitchen, where her mom was standing by the window. “What is it, Mom?”
“I think I saw someone in the backyard.” The older woman stepped toward the window.
“Mom, stay back.” Arielle bolted across the room just as she heard the sound of shattering glass.
* * *
Neil got to the end of the driveway and decided to take the long way into town. He needed time to think.
The night that Craig had made the impulsive choice that got him killed, Neil had later found an empty vodka bottle hidden in the back seat vehicle Craig had used for the stakeout. Neil had been watching from a different car. The alcohol had probably impaired Craig’s judgment. To protect Arielle, to make sure that her last memory of her husband was a good one, he had not said anything. The official report had been vague on purpose.
Arielle’s voice had been filled with suspicion when they’d begun to speak about the night of Craig’s death. He didn’t mind being thought of as the bad guy to protect her memory of her husband. And now he had that little girl to consider.
She was growing up without a dad. It was important that she believe her dead father had been an honorable man.
His phone rang.
Arielle’s voice on the other end of the line sounded frantic. “Someone threw a brick through the window. I called you because I knew you’d still be close.”
He did a giant U-turn on the dirt road. “I’m on my way. Did you see the guy or a vehicle?”
“He ran off into the woods. I think there is a road on the other side of the trees.”
“I know which road that is. I’ll send my deputy out that way to see if he can spot anything. I’m coming back to you.”
“Zoe and my mom were so afraid. The brick almost hit my mom.”
He pressed down on the accelerator. “I’ll be there in just a couple of minutes. I need to hang up so I can radio my deputy.”
“Okay. I’ve locked all the doors. Call me when you’re outside. I’m going back into the bedroom with Zoe and my mom.”
He heard a child cry out, fear permeating her sweet voice and piercing Neil’s heart. Neil clicked his phone off. The idea of Zoe being afraid, let alone hurt by anyone, did not sit well with him.
Neil radioed his deputy, who was out on patrol not far from the road where the suspect had probably been. Neil would have checked the exit that led to the road himself if the deputy hadn’t been so close. His priority needed to be getting back to the vacation rental.
He raced down the road that led to the little house tucked away in the trees. He pressed the brake hard and reached for the door handle before he came to a full stop.
He sent Arielle a quick text.
Here, checking the perimeter of the house.
He circled the entire house, stopping at the broken kitchen window where the brick must have been thrown in. At this corner of the house, the trees were only a few feet away. He could see where the brush was broken and the grass trampled down. The road where the culprit could have parked was just a few hundred yards through the trees. This had to be the same guy who’d run her off the road. Solid police work meant he didn’t jump to conclusions without evidence, but who else could it be besides the man Arielle had come up here to catch?
After checking to see that there was no one on the road, he headed back toward the house.
Arielle flung open the back door when he got close. She signaled for him to come in. Once inside, she spoke in a hushed tone.
“Mom is trying to put Zoe down for a nap. This was upsetting for both of them. I wanted to show you this while we’re alone.” The brick rested on the counter. She picked up a piece of paper that sat beside it.
It was a typed note. Always watching you. Waiting for my chance to kill you.
“I grabbed the brick before Mom could see the note. My mother has enough on her plate trying to help me raise Zoe. She has a heart condition. I don’t want to add stress to her life.”
“We’ll take the brick and the note in for evidence. He texted you in the previous incident. Maybe we can trace that phone.”
“If this is our killer, it’s probably a burner phone.” She shook her head. “These kind of notes are meant to rattle me, just like the text.”
“What are you saying?”
“This guy is like a cat with a mouse. He has to play with me before he kills me.” Her hand fluttered to her neck, and she shuddered.
If psychological torment was this guy’s MO, it was working. “It’s not safe for you to be out here.”
“I agree. The other agents can only be here sporadically anyway. They have a job to do as well.”
“We need to find you a place in town,” he said.
“I already called the hotels. They’re all full. There’s a fly-fishing tournament going on.”
He rubbed his chin and stared at the shattered window. He just had one full-time deputy, Greg. To put him on protection duty would leave Neil seriously shorthanded.
“Why don’t you come stay out at my parents’ ranch house? My mom and dad are there, and we have a ranch hand who is around pretty much all the time. My house is just across the field.”
Arielle’s eyebrows drew closer together. He could tell she didn’t like the idea.
