“What’s the death benefit on that policy?” Stella asked.
Tom raised a brow. “I was getting to that. Half a million dollars.”
Mattie was blown away.
“That’s a large amount for someone so young,” Stella said.
Tom shrugged. “It’s our business. It’s what we believe in.”
“Did Nate go ahead and use the policy to borrow the money?”
“No, we didn’t get around to that. I explained the details to him, and he said he’d talk it over with Kasey and get back to me. That’s as far as it went.”
Helen looked at Stella. “Shortly after we spoke to you yesterday, Kasey called to ask about filing a claim on the policy for the death benefit. We packed up our car and headed down here to talk to the authorities.”
Mattie figured she knew why they had, and she guessed Stella did too, but the detective was waiting for them to say more. When they didn’t, Stella offered a prompt. “What did Kasey say when she called you?”
Lines of concern on Tom’s face added to those already etched by grief. “I told Kasey we’d need to have a copy of Nate’s death certificate before I could file a claim for her.”
Tom took a moment to struggle with tears that brimmed in his eyes. “And then I explained that in cases of homicide, the company would probably launch an investigation before paying. That upset her, and I was worried that she needed the money right away to pay back the bank. I thought we should help her with it if we could. But when I asked, I found out that Kasey’s dad, Doyle Redman, is the one who loaned Nate start-up money years ago. There was no bank involved. Then she said that Nate owed money for gambling debt and he’d been unable to pay back her father. I had no idea—” Tom’s voice broke and trailed off.
Helen reached for her husband’s hand. “We had no idea about any of this. The loan, the gambling. None of it.”
Nate’s parents were obviously devastated, and Mattie’s heart went out to them. But she also felt a sense of irritation. Why was this the first time anyone had mentioned the bit about gambling debt to law enforcement? Kasey had had plenty of opportunities to tell either her or Stella about it. Who did Nate owe gambling money to? And why hadn’t Kasey shared this piece of the puzzle with the police?
“What did Kasey tell you about the gambling debt?” Stella asked.
“She said he’d been to Vegas and racked up debt on all their credit cards,” Tom said. “I remembered Nate telling me that he’d been driving from California to Nebraska a lot and was tired of it, but I was shocked to learn he had a gambling problem. And once I promised Kasey I’d get back to her about the life insurance, she couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. Then Helen and I started talking, and we got worried.”
Repetitive trips from California to Nebraska—to Mattie, that meant drug running.
“Did Nate say why he was making these trips back and forth across the country?” Stella asked.
“He said it was for his business. Supplies and working to get clients. In hindsight, I have to wonder about that.” Tom paused while his gaze shifted between Stella and the sheriff. Mattie wondered exactly what he was thinking. He’d brought up some hard information with serious consequences that implicated Kasey.
Stella leaned forward, placing her elbows against her legs in a posture that matched Tom’s, although unlike his downtrodden body language, her energy fairly snapped between them. “Is Kasey the only beneficiary on the insurance policy?”
Tom nodded. “I suggested that Nate make the change shortly after he married. In those days, it seemed like he’d found the love of his life.”
“Kasey is our daughter-in-law, and we’ve always thought she was a sweet girl.” The pain caused by thinking anything different was evident on Helen’s face. “If it turns out that she has nothing to do with Nate’s murder, it would be devastating to let her know we’ve even brought it up. I hope you can understand our position.”
“We handle these things carefully, Mrs. Fletcher,” McCoy said. “It’s a theory that should be examined, and you can be assured that we’ll proceed with discretion.”
Tom cleared his throat. “The Redmans are important people in Timber Creek.”
“Like Detective LoSasso said, that won’t influence our investigation,” McCoy told him.
But Mattie knew that statement wasn’t necessarily true. Status had an impact on judgments no matter where people lived or in what profession they were involved. Even the local judge sometimes seemed to sign search warrants based on family connections.
“We’re dedicated to finding your son’s killer,” Stella said. “Do you have any other concerns you’d like to discuss?”
As Tom shook his head, he looked at his wife. “I think that’s all.”
“Will you be staying in Timber Creek?”
“At least for a few days. We need to see Kasey and help her with arrangements for our son’s funeral.” Helen’s cheeks were flushed with stress. “It’s hard to explain, but Kasey was our son’s choice, and we’ve loved her as if she were one of our own. It’s a terrible thing to harbor such an evil suspicion about someone you love. What if we’re wrong? We don’t want to color her life with such a horrible accusation.”
Mattie thought these two were perhaps among the wisest people she’d ever encountered. Even in the face of their own grief, they were weighing their words and striving to protect another from unwarranted suspicion.
Stella retrieved her card from her pants pocket. “You can call me to talk anytime, day or night. And let us have your contact information in case we need to get in touch.”
After the Fletchers gave Stella their cell phone numbers, the meeting broke up. Mattie opened the door she’d been standing beside, asking Robo to heel as she stepped back out of the way.
On his way out, Tom made eye contact before glancing down at her dog. “I admire the work you do. And he’s a beauty.”
“Robo’s responsible for finding the bulk of the evidence we have in your son’s case,” McCoy said.
Tom’s gaze conveyed intense sincerity. “Thank you for that.”
“We’ll stay on it.” And as Tom reached to pet her dog’s head, Mattie was quick to prompt Robo. “It’s okay, Robo. Say hello.”
Robo stood and wagged his tail. Most people didn’t seem to realize how dangerous it was to reach out toward a strange dog, especially a protective one like hers. But good genetics and years of training paid off. Take a dog with a friendly personality, add socialization and behavioral training as a puppy, and then top it off with months and months of continuous training in police work and obedience, and here was the result. This type of police dog earned back every one of the thousands of dollars spent to acquire him. Mattie never took having such a valuable asset for granted.
Tom stroked Robo’s head and then escorted his wife through the lobby to leave. McCoy held the door for them as he said goodbye.
“That’s the best motive we’ve got, at least in Nate’s case,” Stella muttered under her breath to Mattie.
“Wives have killed for less,” she replied. “So evidently Nate’s been stopping in Vegas, and he told his wife he was in Nebraska when he wasn’t. Things between them aren’t as rosy as she’s led us to believe.”
“It’s time I pulled her in and talked to her here at the station,” Stella said.
Mattie nodded. “The insurance money works as a motive for Nate, but what about Wilson?”
“Maybe there was some kind of a love triangle gone bad. Right now, I’m skeptical about any of the information we’ve learned from Kasey Redman.”
“Cross-country trips could mean drug running, but you know who else is from California?” Mattie eyed Stella.
“Zach Irving and Ben Underwood. And right now they’re supposedly on a fishing trip up in the mountains north of town with our first victim’s brother-in-law.”
“Do we know that for sure?”
Stella nodded. “Their car’s parked out at the Redman Ranch. Spotted it there
early this morning.”
McCoy came back through the lobby to join them. “Let’s take a thirty-minute break and then meet in the briefing room before Glenna Dalton and Dr. Walker arrive. We need to plan how we’re going to keep our promise to proceed with the utmost care when what we really need to do is bring in the victim’s wife and sweat her.”
NINETEEN
During her break, Mattie caught up on paperwork while Robo sacked out on his cushion. Soon, a light snore coming from his direction made her look to see him settled on his chest, his front legs splayed to each side in a position that looked far from comfortable.
Her partner made her smile, even in the most serious of times.
She’d grown to love him more and more as the months passed. He was her friend, her protector, and her comfort when she was feeling down. She was one lucky cop.
She turned back to her computer to check her email, scrolling through the list, replying to those that needed her attention. There was one from Jim Madsen, Robo’s trainer, setting up an interdepartmental training session in Denver in a few weeks, which caught her eye. It was always fun to mingle with other K-9 handlers, and any day spent with Sergeant Jim Madsen was a good day. But there were still no results on the DNA she’d submitted to the database previously, and she wondered how much longer it would take. She was growing impatient with the wait.
At three, she rose from her chair, and that movement alone sent Robo scrambling to his feet. He yawned and stretched, blinking the sleep from his eyes before standing on his bed, ears pricked and fully alert.
“Let’s go to the briefing room,” she told him, and he headed off in that direction.
The others were already there, including Brody, and Mattie took a seat at the front table while Robo settled beside her chair. She had a disturbing thought: all of her colleagues seated at this table knew her childhood secrets, whereas before she’d thought only Stella knew. She pushed the thought away, unwilling to let it interfere with her work. Nothing had changed except her own awareness—these people were professionals, and their interactions had remained the same as always during the past month.
The sheriff’s presence always lent a certain level of stability to their group. Mattie had learned something about “being grounded” during her weekly yoga lessons with Rainbow, and Sheriff McCoy was probably the most grounded individual she knew. And as far as she could tell, his unflappable nature came to him easily; she doubted he spent much time learning to steady himself with asana poses and meditation like she did.
But as she studied him, she had to wonder if he knew other secrets about her, leaving her with an unsettled feeling. She still suffered from repressed memories from her childhood, and it haunted her to think he might know more than she did about her past.
Stella was writing lists on the whiteboard she’d developed for Wilson Nichol. “All right, everyone, this is getting complicated. Two homicides, both with gunshot wounds. You’ve notified Wilson’s family, Sheriff?”
“His parents,” McCoy said. “They moved from here to Arizona last year and don’t seem to know much about his current life. They plan to come to Timber Creek as soon as they can make arrangements to be gone from their business.”
Stella turned to the whiteboard to review the points she’d written from the autopsy, ticking off each one with her marking pen. “There was one through-and-through gunshot wound to Nichol’s chest, going front to back. From the appearance of the exit wound, the bullet was designed to expand upon impact, similar to the hollow points found in Nate Fletcher.”
Stella moved on to the next point. “Examination of his organs and the cavity left by the predator indicates Nichol bled out and his heart had stopped beating before the cat got to him. The ME is listing the cause of death as exsanguination from a gunshot wound.”
Mattie had hoped that was the case, and she was relieved to hear it confirmed.
“Let’s move on to what we’ve learned about the evidence left at the scene.” Stella pointed to a photo of the boot prints found in the soil beside Wilson’s body. “These prints and the victim’s footwear don’t match, so let’s assume they were left by his killer. Of course we don’t know if the killer came up that close to Wilson during or after the shooting, but the trajectory of the bullet that Robo found in the willows matches with the position of the footprints. It looks like the shooter was standing right there when he shot Wilson.”
A little jolt of adrenaline did a lot to boost Mattie’s flagging energy level. This was good news. If the killer had been close in proximity when he’d shot Wilson and had used a handgun, the same MO had been used for both victims.
Stella went on. “Analysis suggests the prints are approximately a man’s size eight and a half to nine and a half, which converts to a woman’s size ten to eleven.”
Stella eyed her, and Mattie decided to voice what she figured the detective was thinking. “And I would guess Kasey Redman wears a shoe about my size, a size seven.”
“You read my mind,” Stella said. “When you take into consideration the dampness of the soil, it looks like this print was left by a man of slender build. Though I advise we take this with a grain of salt. It’s hard to read much into print depth in different soil types.”
“Agreed, but the glove found at Nate Fletcher’s scene was large enough to suggest a male killer, too.” Mattie scanned the list of persons of interest. “Tyler Redman is a husky guy, but Flint Thornton, Ben Underwood, and Zach Irving are all lean.”
“Right,” Stella said, shifting her gaze to Brody. “Brody, what’s your opinion of Flint Thornton as our killer?”
He scratched the stubble on his chin. “Flint has no history of violent crime. He was into petty theft, property damage, and smoking pot as a teenager, but we never busted him for any of the hard drugs. As far as I know, he’s kept his nose clean for years.”
Mattie would like to believe that a record of juvenile crime didn’t necessarily lead to a record as an adult, but in many cases it did. “We can’t eliminate him yet.”
Brody shrugged and looked at her with tired eyes. “No, we can’t.”
Mattie focused on the next point in Stella’s list. “Let’s talk about the revolver Robo found at Nate Fletcher’s crime scene.”
“Smith and Wesson .38 Special,” Stella said. “Four hollow-point rounds in the cylinder and two spent cartridges, which as you well know matches the number of shots used to kill Nate. The gun had been wiped clean: no prints.”
Mattie spun back to the evidence they’d found at Wilson’s place—the jars and the can of fuel. “We know now that the gun was registered to Wilson Nichol, and he reported it stolen a few weeks ago. That and the items we found behind his office point to someone trying to set Wilson up as Nate Fletcher’s killer.”
“I think it’s possible,” Stella agreed.
McCoy tapped a finger on the table. “Which begs the question: if the killer went to all the trouble to plant this evidence against Wilson, why did he turn right around and kill him?”
“True,” Stella said. “I wonder if something happened after Nate that made the shooter decide he needed to kill Wilson as well.”
During the silence that followed, Mattie wondered how they might find the answer to that question. “We need to trace Wilson’s activities between the filing of the report and the time of his death, especially focusing on these last few days,” she said at last. “We’ve got to see who he’s crossed paths with.”
“I’ve started that, but first let’s finish talking through our evidence,” Stella said. “Wilson’s fingerprints were the only ones found on the binoculars, so it’s safe to assume they belonged to him. And the scrolls found inside his car were blueprints of the Redman Ranch. One was of the buildings on the property, and one was the general layout of the entire acreage.”
“Why would he have those in his possession? And why was he carrying them around in his car?” Mattie paused to think for a moment. “Maybe the Redmans are planning to sell their p
lace and use him as the agent. He could have been up there checking out the lay of the land.”
McCoy shifted in his chair. “We need to follow up with the Redmans to see if they plan to sell their property.”
“Already done,” Stella said. “I called Lillian; they have no desire or plan to sell their property.”
Mattie sorted through details she knew, trying to match the pieces. “All right, when we look at the real estate angle, here sits a valuable piece of property owned by Lillian and Doyle Redman. Wilson Nichol is in real estate sales, Zach Irving is a real estate developer and Ben Underwood a builder. That’s one way these three men tie in together.”
“Agreed,” Stella said. “But Lillian also told me she’d never met the two men from California until this morning when they left with Tyler to go fishing. As far as she knows, they’re merely Nate’s customers.”
Sheriff McCoy interjected by raising his hand. “I’ve got a warrant to search Wilson’s business and home to see if we can find anything associated with his death. Perhaps we can find something there that sheds light on Wilson’s relationship with these two men or anyone else on our list.”
Tyler Redman. He was Wilson’s friend. “What about Tyler?” Mattie said. “Could he be the one interested in selling the land?”
“And now he’s the one hobnobbing with the developers,” Brody added.
“Hard to say,” Stella said, “but that doesn’t provide motive for killing Nate or Wilson. In fact, killing Wilson would throw a wrench into that plan. We’ve still got to dig for motive, and I’ll execute that search warrant first thing tomorrow.”
Stella turned back to the whiteboard, putting her marker on the next point. “Let’s talk about this information from Wilson’s phone records.”
Stella had listed a phone number, and now Mattie took her notebook from her pocket to record it.
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