As she quietly crept around to the other side of her house, she felt the soreness in her back grip, with pain slowing her stride some. With each step, pain radiated downward, stiffening her lower lumbar and causing her to slow even more.
She had the sense that someone was near. “Who’s there?” she said, knowing she would feel a bit silly if a raccoon skittered past.
“Katie?” came a voice.
She moved faster and saw Chad standing in the darkness. “Chad, what the hell are you doing?”
“Are you okay?”
“You didn’t have to come out and check on me. You could’ve just called,” she said, and realized her mistake immediately.
Chad walked into the light; he wasn’t dressed in his official fireman’s uniform but now in his jeans and sweater. “I tried that. I also tried calling McGaven but he wasn’t answering his cell.”
“He probably wouldn’t be. We’ve had so many leads to run down and tonight we had to meet a possible suspect at The Well.”
“The Well?”
“Yeah, nice place. Remind me to never go there again.”
Chad stood close to Katie. “What happened to your face?” He gently touched it.
“Just a bit of a scuffle.”
He didn’t look convinced by her explanation. “I’m sorry to come out here and scare you, but I was going to leave a note. And I wanted to see if you were here.”
“I’m sorry… come sit down with me.” She tried not to walk stiffly or show her pain, but it didn’t get past him.
“You had more than a scuffle,” he said, watching her walk.
They sat on her favorite swing together.
“Here,” he said and began to massage her shoulders and feel down her back. “You didn’t take a hot shower, did you?”
“No. I was so tired I just wanted to go to bed. But… my mind wouldn’t shut off.”
He chuckled. “Know that one. Haven’t had that problem in a while, but the new house is causing a few minor panics.”
“What? How?” she said.
“Oh, it’s just buyer’s remorse. Wondering if I made a mistake. Will I make money on the flip? Will it be a money pit? The usual stuff.”
“Glad it isn’t anything serious.” She took a deep breath as the pain became intermittent. “Ouch… still a bit sore.”
“You know, you need a hot shower and a good massage.” He leaned in and kissed her neck.
Katie missed him so much and wished they were away somewhere where there weren’t killers or demands from work. She turned and returned his affections. “Can you stay?” She didn’t want to talk to him about anything that was bothering her. Her emotions were fragile and she was afraid that she would start crying and not be able to stop when she did.
“Yes. I’m not on again until 2 p.m. tomorrow.”
They went inside. His company was exactly what she needed to end the loop of suspects and evidence running through Katie’s mind. She took a hot shower and received the best body massage she ever had, then made love to Chad into the small hours until she fell into a deep sleep.
Twenty-Six
Friday 0730 hours
Katie was meeting McGaven at the medical examiner’s office to view the body of Mary Rodriguez and to find out the particulars of cause and manner of death. Dr. Dean had called to make an appointment. She thought that she knew what the outcome was going to be, but there were always details you could miss with a naked eye.
She pulled into the sheriff’s department and parked the sedan. As she got out of the vehicle, she noticed how much better she felt after Chad’s magic hands worked her sore muscles. She had slept better than she had in months. He was still sleeping next to Cisco when she left the house. Not having the heart to wake him, she left him a note.
Pushing through the main doors of the medical examiner’s office, she hurried to find Dr. Dean. It didn’t take long to locate him with his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt with large orange and pink flowers. She wondered if he ever wore anything else.
McGaven was waiting for her, but didn’t look in Katie’s direction right away.
“Hi, Dr. Dean. I hope I’m not late,” she said entering the room.
The doctor looked up from his files, his reading glasses sloped toward the end of his nose, “Not at all, Detective. It’s nice to see you.”
She turned to McGaven, giving a quick smile and nod in greeting. He returned the silent hello with a casual nod. It was unclear if he was still upset with her—but she would tread lightly with him until he completely let their disagreement go.
“Well,” the doctor said. “It’s always interesting working your cases, Detective and Deputy.”
“Do we have an official ID?”
Looking at the file, he said, “Yes, from fingerprints compared from an arrest report. She has been identified as Mary Rodriguez.”
“Did she suffer injuries similar to Carol Harlan?” she asked.
“Yes… and no.”
Here we go again…
Dr. Dean began, “Manner of death was strangulation caused by what appears to be a ligature. A thin rope or twine like what had been left on her wrist. There’s no doubt it was murder, but what bothers me is that the message carved into her back was done before death, unlike in the Harlan case.” He moved closer to the exam table where the body was covered with a sheet. Pulling the sheet back, Mary Rodriguez was a shocking sight to behold. The autopsy had already begun so the chest cavity was cut open and the organs had been removed. Katie tried not to look at the gaping hollow where the ribs were exposed and spread wide. She waited until Dean moved the body by rolling it onto its side. Glancing at McGaven, his expression of horror mimicked what Katie felt. She moved next to the examiner to partially obscure her partner’s view of the body.
“These cuts were done when the victim was alive—there’s no purple coloring as the blood would have settled there after death. In fact, this lettering is days, if not weeks old.”
“Can you ascertain what type of knife or cutting tool was used? Was it similar to what was used in the Harlan case?” she asked.
“It was something thin and flat with rounded sides.”
“Could it be some type of writing instrument?”
“It’s possible—more like a tool of some sort with sharp and dull areas to make jagged and smooth cuts.” He pointed to the lettering in “raccoglitore” and how jagged it was, especially when a curve was made on the cs and os. “There are hesitations, too.”
Katie thought for a moment about the cutting letters and the use of strangulation with twine.
“Could the twine or thin rope have been from someone in a trade, like a contractor or builder? Or even subcontractors like electricians or plumbers?” she asked.
“Good point. It could’ve been from something that an electrician might have in their toolbox. You’ll have to check with John about all the possibilities. I’m sure he’ll be able to sort that out for you, if he hasn’t already.” The doctor glanced at McGaven who was quiet and pale. He picked up a wrapped cough drop and tossed it to McGaven. “The menthol will help with nausea and the unpleasant smell of cadavers.”
“Thank you,” he said, and immediately unwrapped the lozenge and popped it into his mouth.
Katie kept her focus on the victim’s injuries. “Was there anything in her system? Drugs? It must’ve been painful to have words carved on her back while she was still alive.”
“Detective, you never disappoint. There were no street drugs in her system, except the heavy painkiller similar to morphine called oxycodone, and it was in light and consistent doses.” He pulled up the body’s right arm and there was a darker blue-purple spot on the back of her bicep. “She had some type of patch inserted here where small amounts of drugs absorbed into her system throughout the day.”
“Can you tell if it was self-inflicted, or done by a doctor?”
“No way of knowing unless you were able to contact her physician to find out what treatments she was
having—if any.”
“What would she have that for?”
“Lots of things. Some patients have these patches inserted for anything from arthritis to migraines to recovering from difficult surgeries to cancer treatments. These are used for pain management, with mostly good results.”
“I see.”
“I can tell you that she had been dead about six hours before she was discovered.”
Katie was already trying to figure out how to track down Mary’s doctor.
“One more thing,” he said. “She had an abortion no more than a month ago.”
Twenty-Seven
Friday 1445 hours
“I don’t have to answer anything, but my attorney advised me that it would be best to cooperate with the investigation,” Hugh Keller stated smugly as he sat in his orange jumpsuit with his arms crossed. In the daylight, he appeared older than thirty-eight and he still reeked of stale alcohol.
Katie and McGaven had been contacted by the sergeant of the jail that Hugh Keller was available to be questioned, but had refused to be transported to the interview room in the detective division. He wanted to be released as soon as possible and kept constantly complaining about his civil rights and wrongful arrest—that he had been set up.
Katie and McGaven sat with him in a small jail meeting room that smelt of sweat and was barely big enough for all three of them to fit in.
“Well, I have to say that’s the most intelligent thing you have said since we’ve met,” said Katie.
“You’re not as smart as you think you are,” he said, leaning back slightly so that he could look down his nose at her.
“All you had to do was cooperate with me at the bar and answer a few questions and you wouldn’t be in this predicament now,” she said with little voice inflection.
He snubbed her and looked away.
“How long did you work for the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department?”
“About six years.”
“In that time, were you ever called to the Elm Hill Mansion?” she asked.
“A few times.”
Katie pulled a piece of paper from a file folder. Reading, she said, “Would you believe, according the records of the sheriff’s dispatch, there were seventeen calls for service in six months?”
“It seems high—but that is probably about right.”
“And on every call, you were the responding officer.”
“If you say so.”
“Were you dating Shelly McDonald?”
“Who?”
“Shelly McDonald. She managed the Elm Hill Mansion and oversaw the day-to-day care of the teenage girls. Ringing any bells?”
“Went out a few times. Nothing serious. I have needs, you know.” He looked Katie up and down.
“Did you know the six girls who resided at Elm Hill Mansion before it was shut down?” she said, ignoring his crude behavior.
“Only from the calls.”
“Where were you Tuesday night?”
“Working.”
“All night?”
“Yeah,” he sneered.
“Can anyone vouch for you?”
“Don’t need it because I was working…”
“Did they refer to you as the ‘Hunter’ or ‘Gatherer’?”
“What?” he said, looking at Katie completely confused.
“What were some of the problems at Elm Hill?”
“Fighting, running away, sneaking out in the middle of the night, stuff like that.”
“Did you know Candace Harlan?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Mr. Keller, this can go easy or I can be your worst nightmare. Start answering my questions and don’t give me the runaround.”
He stopped and stared at Katie, then, leaning forward, he said, “You really want to play rough with me, Detective?”
“I don’t play, Mr. Keller. I want answers.”
McGaven shifted his position to remind Keller that he was in the room.
“Then why don’t you ask me what you really want to know. Not just this bullshit line of questioning.”
“Very well, Mr. Keller. How well did you know Candace Harlan? And how many times did you have sex with her?”
The room was silent. Katie knew she had hit a nerve, but wasn’t proud of how she had to speak on the same level as Keller to get an answer.
“Answer the question, Keller,” said McGaven. His voice cut through the stillness of the room.
Keller fidgeted in his chair and was clearly deciding what he should or shouldn’t say. He finally said, “Yes, I knew Candace Harlan, as well as the other girls, but I can’t remember their names off the top of my head. It was always the same when I would arrive. Girls screaming about no privacy and how Shelly mistreated them. There was no proof, no bruises, no blood. They were a pain in the ass if you ask me.”
Katie leaned closer to Keller and said, “And did you or did you not have sex with Candace Harlan?”
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“The truth.”
“Truth? That’s funny. You only want to put my head on the block so you can close your investigation. I got news for you, sweetheart, I didn’t kill anyone.”
Katie gritted her teeth and said, “That’s not what I asked.” Staring him square in the eye, she asked, “So, abuse and rape of an underage girl, that’s more your speed?”
He lunged forward. Katie didn’t flinch.
“Are we getting close to the truth now?” she said.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, falling back into his chair and looking away.
Katie asked the question again, but he was done talking.
“That how you’re going to play it? You have some wonderful things coming your way,” she said as she stood up and left the small meeting room followed closely by McGaven.
After the door closed behind them, McGaven said, “Do you think that was the best way to handle things?”
“You really think he was going to answer any of my questions?” she asked. “I wanted to see his reactions, and I got what we needed.”
McGaven thought about what she said but didn’t say anything.
A correctional officer approached them, “Hey, just to let you guys know. Keller is getting out—his bail has been made.”
Another officer approached, entered the room and escorted Keller to begin the paperwork process.
Katie was disappointed, but she had bought them some time. She still didn’t believe that Keller was the killer—but she had been fooled before. As Hugh Keller passed by he locked eyes with Katie, licked his lips, and blew her a kiss.
All Katie could do was watch him leave.
Twenty-Eight
Friday 1805 hours
Katie didn’t want to go home, but she also didn’t want to be alone. She stood on Chad’s porch in the rain waiting for him—she had forgotten that he was working his twenty-four-hour shift. After calling him at work, he had sensed her stress, so he had someone cover part of his shift and was on his way to his house to meet her.
As the rain poured harder, all Katie could do was wait. She stood pressed against his front door as the water drenched her clothes and matted down her hair. The last two days had run endless loops of recall through her mind until the memories took on a more sinister tone. She didn’t know if it were side effects from post-traumatic stress, her denial of dealing with certain experiences, or just the fact that she was juggling too many things, but the trauma kept coming.
Her behavior had taken an unprofessional turn—going into the bar alone had been reckless and out of character for her. The last thing she wanted was to compromise the investigation. Too many innocent lives depended on her catching this killer.
Shivering in the rain, Katie could smell fresh paint and adhesives that Chad must have used to fix something recently. She saw a few new potted plants on the walkway and realized that he was really working hard to fix up the cottage.
Headlights
blinded her as Chad drove his large Jeep up the driveway with the windshield wipers on high. The lights quickly dimmed. The engine stopped. She watched Chad’s outline as he jumped out of the vehicle.
“Katie,” he said and rushed to her. “You okay?”
For some reason, just that simple question made her break down. She rarely cried, but with therapy and this case, so many emotions were building up inside her like a pressure-cooker.
“Oh, hey. It’s okay,” he said and held her close to him. Managing to unlock the door, he steered her inside and shut the door.
Lightning lit up the nearby skyline and thunder rolled in the distance five seconds later.
Katie knew that Chad had never seen her like this before, except when they were kids when she had lost her parents in the accident. His concern almost overwhelmed her. She stopped crying but it was difficult for her to maintain her composure. She was now embarrassed and uncertain why she had burdened Chad with her problems.
He hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. Not really knowing what else to do, he held her as they stood at the entrance until her shivering subsided.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to interrupt your work.”
“It’s okay. Everyone has personal issues they need to attend to at times. So don’t worry. Okay?” he said.
Katie looked at him with tears still in her eyes.
“Okay?” he said again.
She nodded.
“You are absolutely soaked. You’ve got to get out of those wet clothes. Go into the bedroom and in the top drawer on the left there are some hoodies and sweatpants.”
“Okay,” she said.
“I’ll make us something hot.” He left for the kitchen.
Katie went to the bedroom and found the warm clothes neatly folded in the top drawer. She shed her badge and gun, leaving them on top of the dresser. The cold from the rain-soaked garments was beginning to invade her bones, causing uncontrollable trembling. Quickly peeling off her clothes, she pulled on the dry ones. Taking a towel from the bathroom and letting her hair down, she sat on the bed and began drying her hair. She felt better almost immediately.
Last Girls Alive: A totally addictive crime thriller and mystery novel (Detective Katie Scott Book 4) Page 14