Last Girls Alive: A totally addictive crime thriller and mystery novel (Detective Katie Scott Book 4)

by Jennifer Chase

  Katie wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle this conversation, so she nodded and agreed, keeping a smile on her face. With perfect timing, the iced teas were delivered. “What would you like to eat?” the server asked.

  “Oh, I’ll have the Gypsy Burger with fries please,” the undersheriff said.

  “Sounds great, I’ll have the same,” replied Katie. “Thank you.”

  The blonde bombshell server took the menus and left to put in the orders.

  “Your uncle told me that you two love getting together every month to have burgers and milkshakes,” she said.

  “Yes, it’s been a tradition for us since I was young.” It pinched Katie a bit that her uncle told a new employee about their personal life, but she knew that there was more to this “girls’ lunch” than it appeared.

  “That’s really nice,” she said, “and special.”

  “We’re family. We only have each other left.” After losing her aunt in such a traumatic and tragic manner, she took their relationship very seriously.

  “Well, he’s lucky to have you.” After sipping her iced tea, Dottie said, “Life is so very precious.”

  “So,” Katie said. “Tell me about you. Are you married? Children?”

  “Oh, no. I’m divorced for four years now. No children, I’m afraid to say.”

  Katie politely nodded. “What made you want to move to such a rural area?”

  “I’ve been here before and just fell in love with the area, and I needed the change from the city, high crime, and pollution.”

  “It is amazing here. I never realized how much until I was gone for a while and then came back…”

  “Oh, that’s right. You did two tours in the army?”

  “Yes.”

  “That must’ve been something.”

  “Yes, it was definitely something,” she said.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” she said, sipping her drink delicately through the straw. “You’ve seen more than most seasoned cops will in a lifetime.”

  “I don’t know about that. Depends upon where they are working.”

  Their huge burger plates were delivered.

  “Wow,” said Katie, staring at the burger with all the trimmings and twice-fried French fries.

  The undersheriff goggled too. “WOW.”

  Both women laughed and began to figure out how they were going to eat the burgers with the least amount of mess.

  They engaged in light conversation as they ate, but Katie still sensed that Dottie had other intentions.

  With her burger half eaten, Katie finally said, “I get the sense that you have something specific you wanted to talk to me about.” She watched her superior contemplate how she was going to say whatever she had to say to her. Dottie didn’t make eye contact and seemed to be rehearsing the right words before she confronted Katie.

  “You’re very perceptive. I’ve read just about all your reports and you’ve solved every case to date.” As Katie listened she took a small bite of burger and fidgeted with a French fry. “All the outcomes of your cases are fantastic. You couldn’t ask for anything better—case closure, high arrest rates, and families getting the answers they long for. You see, one of the reasons that I was hired is that I’m, what you would say, a cleaner, a good housekeeper, which means I make sure everything is running smoothly and that there aren’t any… rogue or potentially misplaced events or employees. I want, and strive for, a clean and perfect record. To create a police department that can be used as a model for other departments.”

  Katie raised an eyebrow as she fought the urge to confront her—but calmly kept her wits.

  “I hope that you understand what I’m trying to say.”

  “Of course. You make sure that the department runs efficiently and under the guidance of strict rules and regulations. The way it’s supposed to be,” she said. “You run a tight ship.” Katie didn’t hide the slight sarcasm in the last comment.

  Dottie smiled and gave Katie a scrutinizing look. “Yes, you could say that.”

  Katie decided to put everything on the table. “So where does all this put me?”

  “Interesting way of putting it.”

  “Look, let me make this easy for you. I do my job. No one has to tell me to do my job. I do it. In fact, I make sure it gets done. It’s not easy and sometimes I have to make decisions on the spot that not everyone agrees with.” Katie watched the undersheriff’s face but saw no reaction, so she continued as she wanted to get everything out and get back to work. “I’ve made mistakes, but I take full responsibility for them and they’re all written up in my file. I don’t ask for special treatment, and I certainly don’t get it. You know that—you were there in the meeting.”

  “I understand that, and I commend your passion, but you have to see it from my perspective. I’m here to ensure that this department is exemplary, and by that I mean that everyone obeys the rules, is safe, and is there to assist the public.”

  “So you are talking about image?”

  “Well, yes and no, but image is important. The public needs to feel comfortable with how we are doing our job and interacting with the community.”

  Katie leaned back. She could see that there was no winning this conversation because they were at the department for two totally different reasons: politics and catching criminals.

  “Look, I know you’re a very capable detective, but it’s not just you as one person. The department is a team. It’s all about the team.”

  “So, what’s the bottom line?”

  Dottie didn’t respond at first, but finally said, “You know that the sheriff has you on probation…”

  Katie was surprised and angry. “I see,” she said, keeping her anger under wraps.

  “I knew you would,” said the undersheriff. “I know that you wouldn’t want to let your department or your uncle down.” She smiled and went back to enjoying her food.

  It was easy reading between the lines: if she stepped out of line one more time, Dottie would fire her. Katie couldn’t finish her burger, everything tasted spoiled.

  Thirty-Nine

  Tuesday 1545 hours

  Katie was still fuming but it was becoming less and less intense as she concentrated on the investigation. She just got off the phone with the Pine Valley Medical Center and Dr. Samantha Rajal would be available to meet with them in an hour.

  “Okay,” she said. “We have a fifteen-minute window to talk to Mary Rodriguez’s doctor.”

  “Sounds good,” McGaven said. “And… if you’re up for it tonight, I was able to get the mystery bookshop owner Mr. Holmes to let us in to view his collection. What do you think about that?”

  “We’re on a roll. I hope someone can give us something substantial.” She looked at McGaven; he appeared more tired than usual with a hint of dark around his eyes and his skin a bit sallow. “Are you sure you’re up for it? I can go to both places alone and give you an update before going home.”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you sure? You look tired. I would go home if I could…”

  McGaven put his pen down and looked straight at her. “Katie, I’m fine. Yeah, I’m a bit tired, but you’re not holding the fort alone. I can handle a few interviews.”

  Katie and McGaven hurried towards the medical center main entrance. The four-story building was large and bland. The interior smelt of cleaning agents and the walls were bare. It appeared to have no identity whatsoever, but it was bustling with people—medical personnel and patients.

  Katie searched the list on the wall and saw that Dr. Samantha Rajal, general practitioner, was on the second floor so they made for the stairs.

  Katie pushed open the door and saw that the waiting room was empty and the front desk was absent of a receptionist. She waited a moment. “Hello?” she finally said, looking around to see if anyone was there.

  After a few minutes, a striking woman with long, dark hair opened the door and said, “Detective Scott?”

  “Yes, and this is D
eputy McGaven.”

  “Nice to meet you both. Please come in to my office.”

  Katie and McGaven followed the doctor down a long corridor and into a nice office with windows across the back overlooking the hills and trees of the county.

  Katie noticed Mary’s file on the doctor’s desk.

  After everyone sat down, Dr. Rajal spoke first. “I know that you’re here to ask about Mary Rodriguez. I’ll try to answer your questions.”

  A red flag went up when Katie heard the word “try”.

  “Mary Rodriguez’s body was discovered last Tuesday at Stately Park,” she said.

  “Yes, I saw the news. It’s terrible.”

  “During the autopsy, our medical examiner noticed that she had inserts for pain medication. Was she being treated for something?”

  “Yes, she had chronic fatigue syndrome and suffered acute body pain. In patients like Mary, taking pills isn’t always the best practice, so I prescribed the intravenous pain medication for her. And it was helping.”

  “How long have you been her doctor?”

  “About two years.”

  Katie wasn’t sure how to word her next question. “Did Mary have any trouble mentally? I realize you’re her general practitioner, but did you refer her to anyone else such as a specialist or psychologist?”

  “No, no one like that,” she said, but it was clear that she was withholding information.

  “Dr. Rajal, Mary was brutally murdered and it’s our job to find the killer. Anything that you can tell us would be helpful.”

  The doctor sighed. “The only place that I referred her to was a clinic for an abortion. And from that, I don’t know anything else. I don’t know if she had the procedure because I didn’t see her after that.”

  “I see,” said Katie. That was going to be her next question. “In your opinion, during her last visits here to your office, did you notice if she seemed anxious or upset about something? Did she seem different to you?”

  “No,” she said. “If anything, she seemed happier than normal.”

  “Really? Did she say why?”

  “I think she’d met someone. She said something like, ‘I didn’t realize that there were still kind, wonderful men in the world.’”

  “Did she say who or where she met him?”

  The doctor stopped to think about it for a moment. “I think she said his name was Ray. She didn’t mention a last name.”

  Katie stopped cold. Her heart pounded. Ray was the name of the man that Candace had escaped the foster home with. “Are you sure she said his name was Ray?” she barely said.

  “Yes, but then that was it. I never saw her again after that visit.”

  Katie took a deep breath, glancing at McGaven who had the same curious look. “Did she happen to say if the baby was his?”

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor said, shaking her head. “No, she didn’t say who the father was. I only know that she was in a relationship with a man named Ray.”

  Forty

  “Can you hear me? Can you hear me?” came a strong authoritative voice from very far away. It was as if I were in a box and they were outside trying to get in. Curious.

  Again, they said, “Can you hear me?” It was the voice of caring concern, something so foreign to me.

  The next moment I felt like I was flying through space, soaring through the water, or floating on a cloud. I breathed deeply… in and out… in and out… hearing my own breathing in my ears. It was strangely soothing. Peaceful. But strange.

  Voices were all around me. At first I thought I had been kidnapped or taken by aliens. I opened my eyes and stared up at a face with kind eyes, inside a helmet, looking down with complete focus at me.

  I suddenly realized I was looking at a firefighter in full uniform, and that I lay on a gurney being wheeled toward an ambulance. Snapped back into reality, tuned in to the sounds and chaos, just like an old-fashioned radio coming on.

  Lifting my head, I saw several firemen fighting a blaze. I felt the heat. Flames leapt out the windows and doors with a crackling display of what once had been my home. The only home I had ever known. It was gone. Forever.

  Her voice came back louder than ever.

  “You think you’re so smart, but you’re not!” screamed my mother. “You’re a loser. A failure. You’ll never amount to anything. You make me sick…”

  I looked to the right to a black bag on another gurney being wheeled to another location. It was her. I knew it was her. What was left of her. I didn’t care. And it was the last time I ever had to see her again.

  Forty-One

  Tuesday 1945 hours

  McGaven drove to the bookshop. He was familiar with the area from patrol and seemed to be excited about the fact that they were going somewhere shrouded in so much secrecy. It was the only place where they’d tracked down the Hunter-Gatherer book series from the 1940s—no one else, including the Internet, libraries, and specialized rare bookstores, had copies that they could find. It was still unclear if the killer had read them or was engaging in murder because of them, but it was the only lead on the message carved into the girls’ backs that they had.

  Katie laughed to herself.

  “What?” he said, glancing at her in the passenger seat.

  “You.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You seem so excited about this visit,” she said.

  “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved mysteries and magic and all that stuff. It’s like getting to play out one of my kid dreams.”

  “Okay, I get it,” she said.

  “You think I’m weird.”

  “No, not at all. I just hope you’re not disappointed.”

  “We’ll see. We shall see.”

  He accelerated as they raced toward the downtown area. They knew the building was next to 6317 Sycamore Street. McGaven stopped the car and stared at a large brick building with few windows. “Where’s the entrance?”

  “Here.” Katie pointed. “Park there.”

  McGaven parked the car and they both jumped out and began searching the outside of the building—walking back and forth looking for a number or a name.

  Nothing.

  “The alley?” Katie said, and moved quickly around the building where there was a narrow path with two large dumpsters. She stopped and studied them. Something didn’t seem right and her instincts spiked, almost feeling that they were being watched. Studying the side of the building, she saw a plain wooden door. “This is it.”

  McGaven stood next to her. “I see it too. You must be great at jigsaw puzzles to see that.”

  They moved cautiously to the door. It looked as if there weren’t any handle, hinges, or other hardware.

  Katie glanced at McGaven. “Here goes,” she said, and knocked three times.

  They waited.

  To their surprise, the door slid left and disappeared into the wall. No one was there and there weren’t any further instructions.

  Katie stepped forward as McGaven put his hand on her arm. “Wait.”

  She did as instructed, the hair prickling on her neck. “What do you want to do?” she whispered.

  McGaven stepped forward first, keeping Katie back. He ran his hands up the side of the opening and across the top, double checking everything and then moving forward with caution.

  Katie followed, alert. It wouldn’t be the first time that unsuspecting and unprepared police officers walked into a trap. Once inside, the door closed behind them and they were left in darkness.

  “Mr. Holmes,” said Katie, a little nervously. “Are you here?”

  The light went on and the place lit up like a carnival ride. They were in a large room filled with furniture and fixtures, art and rugs from the 1800s, but arranged like a set on a stage. Katie looked around; there were no windows but lights and lamps had been placed all around to bring the room to life. She seemed to recollect something in the news a while back about this bookstore, but at the time, it didn’t mean much to her.

&
nbsp; “Detectives!” came a voice with a slight British accent. “The game is afoot.” He laughed. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” A tall thin man with dark hair, goatee, and smoking a cigarette, entered the room wearing a long vintage burgundy coat with silk pants and some type of slippers.

  “Mr. Holmes,” said Katie. She felt silly saying that out loud in the surroundings, but it was his real name.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I’m Detective Scott and this is Deputy McGaven.”

  “Pleased to meet you both. I have to say when I received a call from Deputy McGaven I was quite intrigued.” Noticing Katie and McGaven’s response to the place, he said, gesturing to the lavish setting, “Oh please, this is all for show, the public loves it.”

  “Mr. Holmes, we understand that you have the set of books entitled ‘Hunter-Gatherer’ from the 1940s.”

  “Yes.”

  “What is the name of the author?”

  “Why, Ray Roland, of course.”

  “I see,” said Katie, stunned that the author’s name was Ray. “The existence of these books has come to our attention as part of an ongoing murder investigation and we were hoping to take a look at your copies.”

  “Well, you’re very lucky. I would imagine it would be very difficult, if not impossible to find them. There were printed by a very small vanity press, and only 200 copies were ever published. Most likely many of the sets were probably lost or damaged.”

  “And you have a set?” said McGaven.

  “Yes, and in fairly good condition.”

  “What’s so special about these books?”

  “Well, they are written about the journey of the main character, Izzie, and everything he encountered from his perspective. It’s part fantasy, part reality, and part the struggles of growing up, I believe. Basically, a story about a child living a terrible life in a family that doesn’t love him, so he creates a life that’s pure fantasy—in his own mind.”