by Laura Scott
She shut down the squad and slid out from behind the wheel, softly closing the door behind her. Keeping off the road and in the brush along the side of the highway, she hiked to where she’d last spotted his car.
Her heart pounded with anticipation. When she was less than five yards away, she pulled her weapon and held it down at her side.
The almost full moon overhead gave her more than enough light to see the squad was still on the dirt road. The lights were off, and she imagined Beck was going up to the trailer on foot.
Still, she approached with caution in case this was nothing more than a clever trap.
The squad was almost close enough to touch, but she stayed behind the tree for a long moment, sweeping her gaze around the area. She couldn’t see any sign of the yellow, rust-stained trailer but figured it would be located further in the woods and away from prying eyes.
The squad appeared empty, although it was difficult to say for sure from this angle. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then eased forward for a better view.
A branch broke beneath her foot. She froze, waiting for Beck or someone else possibly from the meth trailer to come investigate the source of the sound.
Nothing happened.
She moved another step, then stopped when she noticed that the car wasn’t empty the way she’d assumed.
A dark figure was reclining in the driver’s seat with his head back. She frowned. Was Beck waiting for someone? Was this some sort of secret rendezvous?
She took another step forward, positioning herself behind another tree. Glancing around, she didn’t think she’d be hidden from view if another vehicle pulled up behind Beck with his headlights on.
Before she could move again, Beck moved. From her vantage point, she could see his face clearly in the moonlight. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, as if he may have been resting his eyes, then reached up for his radio. His window was closed, and she was far enough away that she couldn’t make out what he was saying. It wasn’t a long conversation, and when he moved his seat back up and leaned forward to reach for the keys, she realized he must have gotten a call from dispatch.
She instinctively dropped to the ground a fraction of a second before Beck started the engine. Twin beams of headlights brightened the area around them, blinding her. She ducked her head and held her breath as Beck slowly backed out of his parking spot. Seconds later, he was out on Highway ZZ heading toward town.
When the headlights grew dim, she rose to her feet and moved through the brush to the area where he’d been parked.
She should have brought a flashlight. The moonlight was partially covered by the surrounding trees, but she walked the entire area, searching for any sign of a trailer having been recently been through.
When that didn’t work, she widened her search area, convinced the trailer must be hidden deep into the woods.
But she didn’t find anything. An hour later, she was tired, sweaty, and sick of being eaten alive by mosquitos.
Back in the clearing, she put her hands on her hips and turned in a circle. What on earth had Beck been doing there? Waiting for something? Someone? A payoff?
All she’d noticed was that he’d appeared to be sleeping.
Talk about a fool’s errand. It was one thirty in the morning, and she had learned absolutely nothing.
Because Beck had done nothing.
Of course, there was still time. His shift didn’t end until eight in the morning.
She decided to wait a while longer. She headed back to her squad and slouched low in the seat.
Thirty minutes later, her patience was rewarded when she noticed a squad driving past. As before, the brake lights went bright as the driver slowed and turned back onto the dirt road.
This time she waited in her vehicle. But as the minutes ticked by slowly without evidence of anyone coming to meet with Beck, she once again got out of the car.
This time, she didn’t waste as much time moving silently, but hurried to his parking spot. When she went into the woods, she frequently checked the driver’s side window.
Beck was inside with the back of his seat as far back as it could go.
As before, he appeared to be sleeping. Sleeping!
How could she have gotten this so wrong?
She watched for several long moments, but it was clear Beck wasn’t leaving anytime soon. At least, not until he got another call from dispatch.
Was this how he spent his nights? Resting between calls? Making token passes through town in an effort to prove he was working?
He really was pathetic. As a man and as a cop.
Unfortunately, his sheer laziness didn’t make him a criminal.
She sighed and silently edged out of the woods. Okay, if Beck wasn’t the one behind the drug running, who was? Abe Crowley? Or his son, Ian? Someone else she hadn’t even considered?
She trudged back to her squad feeling as if she was right back at square one.
With no clue as to who was in charge of the meth cooking in Clark County.
13
Jeremy tossed and turned most of the night, worrying about what Trina might be doing. He finally gave up trying to sleep and crawled out of bed when he smelled freshly brewed coffee.
After a quick shower and shave, he left the master suite to enter the dining room. It was empty, but he could hear noise coming from the kitchen and assumed either Jemma or Jazz was up.
He pushed his way through the swinging door. Jemma was busy at the stove, an apron wrapped around her waist. Trey was in his booster seat at the table, enjoying his French toast.
She glanced at him. “Hey, Jeremy. Are you hungry? I’m happy to cook you breakfast.”
“Is Garth gone?”
She nodded and swiped her hands on her apron. “Yes, you just missed him. Why? Did you need something?”
“No, just curious.” He wanted to call Garth and ask if Trina was at work but held back. He might be able to figure it out when he went to get a copy of the autopsy report. “I’d love breakfast, but I don’t want to be a bother. Whatever is easiest for you is fine.”
“French toast coming up.” She cracked a couple of eggs into the mixture she already had in a bowl and began whipping them together.
He filled a mug with coffee and sat beside Trey. The kid had syrup all over his face, hands, and hair. “You like your mom’s French toast?”
Trey nodded. “It’s good,” he said with his mouth full of food. “Mom, I wanna play with Goldie after breakfast.”
“Okay.”
Trey ate as if his life depended on it. A few minutes later, Jemma slid a heaping plate of her infamous French toast in front of him.
“Thanks.” He took a bite and nodded. “You’re the master, sis.”
Jemma laughed. She took a wet cloth and began wiping Trey’s face and hands. When he was relatively clean, she lifted him out of his booster seat. “Go see what Auntie Jazz and Uncle Dalton are up to. I’m sure they’ll love to have you play with Goldie.”
“I will!” Trey scampered off.
Jeremy grinned. “That’s one way to get rid of him.”
“I need some time to clean up the kitchen. Besides, Jazz and Dalton don’t mind if he helps take care of Goldie. I know they’re anxious to finish up the drywall in their new kitchen and living room.”
Jazz and Dalton were renovating the old Stevenson place. He’d been impressed with how the project was coming along. The progress was slower than they’d like because Dalton’s home remodel business was beginning to take off. He was balancing paying projects with the time needed to work on their current home.
“I learned the names of the four teens who were on the boat the night Lucy died.”
Jemma brought a steaming mug of tea over to the table, dropping onto the bench so that she was across from him. “Really? Who else was there besides our dad?”
“Trina’s uncle, Samuel Delrosa, and two other guys, Benny Maynard and Abe Crowley. Apparently, the only two who are still alive are Ben
ny and Abe. Sam died twelve years ago.”
Jemma’s eyes widened. “That’s great news! We can talk to both of them to find out the truth at last.”
“Hold up.” He lifted a hand. “Trina pointed out that neither one of them have to admit to anything, they can blame the two dead guys, and we’d never be able to prove otherwise.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“I know.” He shook his head. “I’ll still get a copy of the autopsy report, but I’m not sure what good that information will do for us.”
“Yeah.” Jemma propped her chin in her hand, her expression resigned. “I’d really hoped to find a way to clear Dad’s name.”
“Our dad didn’t do anything wrong that night.”
“But that’s not what Benny and Abe would say.” She blew out a breath. “Well, I guess that’s it, then. We’ve gone as far with this mystery as we can.”
“That’s the way it looks,” he agreed.
Jemma reached over and patted his arm. “Thanks for trying, though. It means a lot.”
“No problem.” Jeremy finished his breakfast, then came to a halt when he met Jake on his way into the dining room. “Everything okay?”
Jake feigned a look of innocence. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Brianna took you by surprise showing up the way she did.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Jake warned. “I’m showing her around for a few days before she heads back to Ireland.”
“With you?” Jeremy knew he was pushing.
“My work in Ireland is finished,” Jake said. “I won’t be staying there much longer.”
“Does Bree know that?”
Before Jake could answer, Jeremy looked over his shoulder to see Brianna Murphy coming toward them. To prevent his brother from saying something stupid, he called out, “Good morning, Bree.”
“Morning, Jeremy. Brilliant weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely.” He glanced again at Jake. Was there a flash of longing in his brother’s eyes? If so, it was gone in a flash. “See you both, later.”
Jake didn’t answer, but as Jeremy went past them, he could hear Brianna asking about their plans for the day.
Shaking his head at his brother’s predicament, he slid behind the wheel of his Audi. The drive into town didn’t take long.
The Clark County Courthouse was attached to the Sheriff’s Department headquarters. The same place that housed the jail.
The night he’d met Trina seemed like weeks ago instead of mere days. As much as he wanted to believe the short timeframe was the reason she’d pushed him away, she’d clearly indicated otherwise.
Approaching the window where he could submit an open records request, Jeremy wondered where the ME’s office and work area were located.
A woman in her midfifties, with gray-streaked hair and oversized glasses, scowled at him through the window. He offered his best professional smile.
“Good morning. I’m Dr. Jeremy McNally, and I’m here to request a copy of the autopsy report on Lucy Tate.”
She didn’t appear impressed. “We don’t give out autopsy reports except to next-of-kin.”
He’d known that going in but had hoped that being a physician might give him an opening. Apparently not. He did his best to remain cordial. “I’m interested in the autopsy from a medical perspective.”
“But you’re not next-of-kin.” She lowered her head to peer at him from over her glasses. “I need a court order or a consent signed by the next-of-kin.”
So much for that idea. No way would Leon or Mary Tate give consent for a McNally to have a copy of the autopsy. He changed the subject. “I understand. One more quick question, can you tell me where I can find Dr. Patton?”
She stared at him for a long moment. “He’s busy, but I’ll give you his number so you can leave him a message.”
Busy? Like performing an autopsy? He tried not to show his excitement as she jotted a phone number on a slip of paper and slid it beneath the window.
“Thanks. Can you at least tell me where his office is?”
She hesitated, then caved. “It’s located within the Clark County Health Center.”
“Great, I appreciate the information.” He took the phone number and turned away. It made sense that the area where Patton performed autopsies would be close to his office and close to the health center. He had a vague idea where the center was located and quickly drove there.
He was so preoccupied with finding Patton he didn’t immediately recognize Trina behind the wheel of her squad as she passed him. By the time her face registered in his brain, she was long gone.
He wished he’d acknowledged her with a wave but took comfort in knowing she’d gone in to work. She must not have found anything suspicious while following Beck.
Or maybe she had but had decided to hold off for a while before making a move. It occurred to him that once she shut down the meth trailer, she might be willing to give their relationship a chance.
Wishful thinking? Maybe, but he couldn’t just return to Lansing without knowing when he’d see her again. It was bad enough that he didn’t love his job, but to have nothing else to look forward to, other than potentially getting into the forensic pathology program, would be unbearable.
Jeremy found the Clark County Health Center without a problem. The building didn’t look very big from the front, but when he drove into the parking lot, he noticed a narrow driveway leading along the east side of the building. Following the road, he learned the building extended back further than he’d realized.
The narrow driveway led to another much smaller parking area, large enough, he thought, for ambulances or maybe a hearse to turn around in. There were also metal double doors that would lead inside.
This must be where the autopsies were done. He parked his car in the farthest corner so it was out of the way, then went over to rap on the doors.
Nothing.
He stepped back and surveyed the building. There were no other doorways, but he felt certain there had to be a way to get from the health center to the autopsy suite from inside.
As he was turning around, the rumble of a car engine caught his attention. He turned and watched as a dark blue sedan approached. The man behind the wheel had white hair and wore glasses.
Jeremy stood, waiting for the guy to get out of his car. The older gentleman eyed him curiously.
“Dr. Patton? I’m Dr. Jeremy McNally.” He held out his hand to the physician.
“Dr. McNally?” His tone held a note of surprise, either because Jeremy was a doctor, a McNally, or both.
“I’m sorry to drop in unannounced.” Jeremy shook the man’s hand. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m interested in pursuing a career in forensic pathology.”
“You are?” The coroner was fond of responding in questions instead of in statements. “Why is that?”
“I used to be a trauma surgeon.” Jeremy wished the Medical Examiner would invite him inside. It was early, barely nine in the morning, but the sun was already throwing down rays of heat. “After a car crash, I had to give up my career, but I have found I don’t love being a hospitalist.”
Patton frowned. “Being a hospitalist isn’t important enough for you?”
There he went with the questions again. “It’s not that, I like treating patients, and I was recently granted a promotion. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how much I miss being a surgeon.” He shifted his feet, feeling like a young resident who’d been scolded for missing signs of sepsis. “I’m considering applying to the forensic pathology fellowship program in Lansing.”
“You know anything about being a Medical Examiner?” Patton asked.
“No, sir, that’s why I’m here.” Jeremy was beginning to lose his patience. “I would like to talk to you further about your role if you have time.”
“Time?” Patton looked at his watch. “Why not? I have a case waiting for me, do you think you’re up for watching your
first autopsy?”
“I’d love to.” Jeremy didn’t bother to point out that every surgical resident had to cut open cadavers before assisting in procedures with real patients.
Patton took out a key ring and opened the double doors. Jeremy followed him inside. The overwhelming acrid scent of formaldehyde assaulted his senses.
It was stronger than he remembered, and he did his best not to sneeze or show any other reaction. Patton seemed oblivious as he made his way through the hallway and into the spacious lab.
A covered body was lying on the stainless steel table, looking like something out of a movie.
Patton donned protective gear over his casual slacks and golf shirt. Jeremy followed suit until they were both covered from head to toe, including face masks with built-in eyeshields. Good thing the air-conditioning was blasting on high.
“Will you stand back in case you faint?”
“Sure. But I won’t faint. I was a trauma surgeon for four years.”
“You don’t think this will be different?” Patton asked as he removed the sheet covering the body.
“Of course, it will be different—” he stopped abruptly, recognizing the face of the skinny man lying on the table. Shock reverberated through his body. “Is that Timothy Eden?”
Patton’s gaze pierced his. “You know him?”
“No, not personally. But I was there when he was arrested for driving under the influence. I didn’t know he’d died.” Somehow, the news of a dead body hadn’t made it to the B&B.
“It’s our job to find out exactly what caused his death.” It was the first statement Patton had uttered since they’d met. “What do you think our first step is on a case like this?”
“Examining the body.”
“Exactly.” Patton beamed like he was the proud instructor over an eager-to-learn student. “What do you think these marks are here?” Patton pointed to a dark wound around Eden’s neck.
“Bruising that may be associated with being strangled.”
Patton nodded and continued his examination of the body, pointing out the broken fingernails indicating there had been a struggle. When the examination was finished, Patton reached over and lifted a hand-sized electric saw. “You sure this won’t bother you?”