The sound of crashing coming through branches and bushes came directly at her as a dark figure materialized. Waiting for the right moment, Katie pushed her body and was able to block him like a linebacker. The hooded man abruptly stopped and landed hard on his back, letting out a groan.
Katie was soaked, filthy, tired, and felt like she had just jumped from a moving vehicle into a river. She wasted no time and jumped on the hooded man. “Who are you?” she said breathlessly, holding him down.
McGaven came hurtling through the woods. “Katie, you okay?” he said.
“I said, who are you?” she demanded, ignoring McGaven, and tore the hood from the phantom’s face in a fit of anger.
She gasped in disbelief. It was like looking at a ghost. She flashed on the first crime scene in every detail—long dark hair, the pink fingernail, and the body dumped at the Elm Hill Mansion. Lying on the ground, staring up at her, wasn’t a man at all—the mysterious hooded person that had been following Katie was Candace Harlan.
The rain began to pour.
Forty-Four
Wednesday 2000 hours
McGaven and John managed to help Katie and Candace back up the trail to a waiting police car. Candace was put in the backseat. Three patrol officers had assisted their call. Technically Candace Harlan wasn’t wanted for anything specific yet, but she had a lot of explaining to do.
Katie peeled off her raincoat and shirt to replace them with a heavy sweatshirt she had borrowed from McGaven. Then she used her shirt to try to clean the mud from her face. Her jeans were still wet, causing her to shiver, and she hoped that she wouldn’t catch a cold. Not having time to go home and change properly, Katie went to the patrol car, opened the passenger door and sat inside for a silent moment, trying to form her questions and keep her anger under control. Candace didn’t say a word—she sat quietly in the backseat, obviously detecting the extreme tension in Katie.
“I don’t know what I’m angrier about. The fact that you shut the door to a metal container and tried to kill two police officers or the fact you didn’t come forward when your sister was murdered. Am I missing anything?”
Candace didn’t answer her questions; she sat with her head down and kept quiet.
It was unclear to Katie if Candace was remorseful or trying to play her and the investigation. Either way, Katie was going to get some answers.
“You understand that you’re in trouble, right?”
Candace didn’t move. Her dark hair was shorter than her sister’s, just past shoulder length, and was messy and dirty from the fall. In a better light, it was clear that she resembled her sister almost perfectly. There was no mistaking that they were sisters. She had a gold nose ring and there were subtle remnants of makeup around her eyes, now smeared along with the mud.
“And you understand that you have compromised a murder investigation and things are looking sketchy for you. You do understand, right?” she said, and raised her voice. “I’m not a fan of repeating myself.”
“What… what do you want to know?” the young woman finally said.
“Oh, so you can speak,” Katie said, still remembering being pushed down the hill.
“Yes,” she said slowly, as if afraid to say anything at all. Her words slightly trembled as she spoke.
“Good.” Katie took a deep breath; she was too angry to suffer from any anxiety right now. As strange as it sounded, anger fueled her drive, pushed unnecessary thoughts and memories away, but in the end it was psychologically draining for her.
Katie heard Candace shift her weight in the backseat.
“Where have you been for the past five years?” she asked.
“Everywhere. I left town not long after I left Elm Hill.”
“That’s not telling me much.”
“LA, Sacramento, Boise, and then Phoenix.”
“Who helped you escape the mansion?”
“Ray. We hung out for a while, but he got weird, possessive, and I bailed.”
“Last name?”
“Ray Conner.”
“How did you meet him?”
“In town.”
“Look, Ms. Harlan. I don’t know if you realize how much trouble you are in. If I were you, I would strongly suggest cooperating with us.” Katie turned her gaze and stared at Candace. She looked defeated, hair wet and hanging in her face, and eyes looking at the floor. “I can help you, but you have to be honest with me.” Katie couldn’t help but see her twin sister lying in her grave covered with mud and it tamed her anger. Now she felt compassion for the woman.
“I used to go to a coffee place on the corner of Maple and Jensen Streets.”
Katie nodded. “I know it.”
“I would go there a lot. It was a place where I could be alone and think… and prepare for when I turned eighteen.”
“You met Ray there?”
“Yes. I saw him several times. He was cute in his own way… older… but I liked him. After a while, we would share a table and talk about things: my life, his life, and living in this town.”
“What did he do?”
“I’m not entirely sure. It had to do with business, accounting, I think. He always had files of reports and spreadsheets in his briefcase.”
“How long did you stay with him?”
“About three months.”
“Where did you stay?”
“We rented a motel with a kitchen by the week.”
“Why not his house?”
“He said it was too small and his roommate was always around. This way we could be alone.”
Katie took a few notes, but she was beginning to get an instinct of who “Ray” was and it wasn’t a good feeling. “What motel?”
“I don’t remember the name. It was over near where the railroad stores their cars and cargo. I do remember that it had a big red dot and it said ‘weekly rentals with kitchens’.”
“You say you left Ray after three months?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you go?”
“Um, I went to Los Angeles. I worked as a waitress and tried to get a modeling job.”
“During all this time when you’ve moved—did you see Ray again?”
There was a pause before she answered, “I thought I saw him in Sacramento, but I was mistaken. It made me think that he might have tracked me down and was following me.”
“You never spoke to Ray again?”
“No.”
The heater was turned to low in the patrol car and Katie started to feel better—her shivers had stopped. “Were you ever in contact with any of the girls from Elm Hill?”
“I spoke with all of them for a while at first, except…”
“Except who?”
“Tanis,” she said.
That revelation surprised Katie. “Why not Tanis? Wasn’t she your best friend?”
“Detective, you probably won’t understand this… and I mean it from my heart. I wanted to protect Tanis.”
“From what?”
“Bad experiences, life, bad people. She had done so much for the rest of us and I wanted to make sure that she was happy and at least had a chance—more than the rest of us.”
“Ms. Harlan, are you aware that your sister was murdered? And her body was found last week at Elm Hill Mansion?”
“Yes,” she said shakily, holding back the tears.
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“It had been a while. A few months… I don’t know…” She sniffled and wiped tears from her eyes.
“Do you know who would have wanted to kill her?”
“It wasn’t her. It was me.”
“What are you saying? That whoever killed your sister Carol meant to kill you?”
“I got in with some bad people, gambling, escort service, that sort of thing. They don’t like it when people want to leave. I’ve been looking over my shoulder every day since. And then… and then…”
“I see. Where were these bad people?”
“Sacramento.”
Katie had first been a patrol officer for two years at Sacramento PD and she was aware of some of these nefarious gangs. She made a few more notes. “Any names?”
“I don’t know their real names.”
Katie turned around in her seat because she wanted to see Candace’s face when she asked the next question. “Why did you try to kill me and my partner?”
“I didn’t.”
“I saw you, well, not your face, but I saw you standing there and shutting the door to the container.”
There was a knock at the window. McGaven stood there waiting as he made a hand gesture for her to come out.
“I’ll be right back,” said Katie as she got out of the vehicle, immediately regretting it with the cold air piercing her body. Shutting the door quickly, she said, “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to let you know that we’ve looked over the cameras and it was definitely Candace Harlan.” Katie saw John walk from the trail carrying cameras.
“Was there anyone else?” she asked.
“Nope, just her.”
Katie made a frown and bit her lip.
“What?” he said.
“I’ll fill you in on everything later, but for now, check out…” she said and retrieved a piece of paper from her notebook. “Do a check on Ray Conner, early- to mid-thirties. Businessman. Not sure of profession.”
“Who’s this?”
“This is Candace’s Ray—the one she ran away with that night. According to her, she dumped him three months later and took off to LA.”
He took the notes. “On it.” He looked at Katie with a questioning expression.
“I’m fine, really. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow. Don’t worry about tonight’s report—I’ll take care of it.”
McGaven’s face looked relieved, so he smiled and started walking away. “See you then.”
Katie returned the smile. Then she saw John loading up the surveillance equipment and thought for a moment she needed to talk to him, but that would have to wait. He turned and looked at her, his somber expression difficult to read, but he smiled at her with a gentle nod.
Katie opened the patrol passenger door again and slipped back inside to the welcoming heater.
Candace burst out, “I didn’t try to kill you and your partner.”
“Why were you following me?”
“I… I wanted to make sure that Carol’s murder would be solved. And… I’ve been terrified that whoever killed her is coming after me, so I followed you on the investigation to make sure. I had a car for a while.”
“Why did you shut the door on us?” Katie persisted.
“I just wanted to give myself time to get away. I knew one of these times that you would catch me.”
“So who was driving the bulldozer? Who was your partner?”
“I don’t understand. Partner?”
“Who were you working with?”
“No one.”
“So you mean to tell me that ‘no one’ tried to push the metal container off a cliff with me and my partner in it?”
“I’m telling you no one was helping me. I just put a stick in the lock, I figured you’d be able to escape within minutes, but it gave me enough time to get away.”
“So you didn’t start the bulldozer?”
“What? I don’t know anything about bulldozers. I just wanted to slow you down, not kill you. Why would I want to do that?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Katie said.
Candace leaned forward. “I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t lock you in the storage container. I swear, I’m telling the truth.”
“Who was there with you?”
“No one, I left as fast as I could.”
Another knock tapped at the window. This time, it was the patrol officer wondering how long Katie was going to take. She held up a finger indicating it would be a couple more minutes.
“Who is Amy Striker?” said Katie. “You listed her as your emergency contact at the dentist.”
“She’s a name I made up from a singer that used to sing at the coffee shop once in a while.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to be traced—besides, I don’t have anyone to list as an emergency number.”
“What about 1457 Green Street?”
“Oh… I saw a flyer about that new development and all the houses for sale—I dreamed of a place like that and I just used one of the addresses.”
Katie thought it was a little too convenient—even though it made sense. “And I suppose you put that piece of paper in my locker?”
“What paper?”
“ETL Express. The name of the storage container company.”
“I don’t know anything about that… honest. What’s going to happen to me?” Candace asked. Her voice strained, like that of a young girl.
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? I’ve told you everything—the truth,” she stressed.
“Look, they are going to ask you some questions back at the department regarding the missing persons report, and probably the child protective services as well to clear the case that was opened on you. To clear that allegation—of you going missing.” Katie softened her voice; she could see that Candace was scared. “Just be cooperative and you’ll be fine. I’m sure we can dismiss the charges of you pushing me down the hill—it was maybe a misunderstanding and you were trying to protect yourself.”
“But I won’t be fine… There’s someone out there that wanted me dead and they killed my sister by mistake. I’m not going to be fine.”
“If that’s true, you’ll be safe at the department. No one is going to let anything happen to you.”
“Please, Detective, please let me go.”
“That’s all the questions I have right now. I’ll be talking to you soon.” Katie knew that there was more Candace wasn’t telling, but maybe some time in holding might make her more forthcoming.
“How can I reach you?” she begged.
“Okay,” Katie said, looking for her business card and pulling it out of her pocket. “Here’s my card, okay?”
Candace took the card. “Thank you, Detective.” Her hand shook and the look of fear washed over her face. “I don’t know if someone from my recent past killed Carol. But now… I’m not sure of anything… I’m not safe and I don’t think anyone is safe from Elm Hill. I know whoever killed Carol won’t stop until there’s none of us left. I’m going to be the last girl alive.”
Katie looked at the wide eyes of the young woman, scared, unsure, but knowing that there was a killer looking to murder her. She wanted to help her, but she couldn’t get personally involved or slack in her thinking. “You’ll be fine,” she said, and stepped out of the car. Turning to see Candace’s face, the woman mouthed the words Please help me.
Katie turned, gave the patrol officer the thumbs up sign, and returned to the Jeep. She sat in there until everyone had left the parking lot and the last of the headlights disappeared. She turned over the engine and the SUV roared to life. Slowly driving out of the parking lot, Katie digested everything that Candace Harlan had told her. The case was becoming more complex and Katie’s gut instincts were turning into trepidation.
Please help me.
Forty-Five
Thursday 0905 hours
“Morning,” Katie said as she dropped her briefcase on her desk. “What a night, but I got everything done and submitted. Hopefully we won’t be getting a surprise visit from she who shouldn’t be named.”
McGaven watched her as she went through her routine of clearing the desk for her notes and updating the murder board. “I have an update,” he said solemnly.
“What?” she said with concern.
“I received a message from my buddy at the prison about Shelly McDonald.”
“She did commit suicide, right?” The thought of McDonald being so distraught over their visit that she took her own life made Katie extremely distressed.
“Yes, unfortunately. But, I wanted to know if anyone had visited her recently besides us.”
“And?” Katie knew there was a bombshell about to be dropped, by the look on McGaven’s face.
“She had one visitor,” he said and paused. “They signed in as Ray Roland.”
“Are you kidding me? The name of the author of the ‘Hunter-Gatherer’ series?” Katie’s mind spun with all the reasons why the visitor picked that name. “Would the killer really take the chance of being identified? Or perhaps it’s a hoax?”
“I saw the camera footage of this guy as he signed into the prison and he definitely knew how to avoid the cameras.”
“Of course.”
“And this,” he said as he pulled a piece of paper from the printer, “is the best we can see of him.”
Katie eagerly took the printout and studied the grainy photograph. It was a man, average height, average build, standing at the entrance, readjusting the clipboard to an awkward angle and signing in. He kept his face at an angle that made it almost impossible to see it clearly. He wore a heavy jacket and baseball cap.
“Damn,” she said. “I can’t tell if the man is twenty or fifty from this angle.”
“I know, he knew what he was doing. Which means he’s been to the prison before.”
“So, if this is the killer, that means that he knew Shelly McDonald and had a connection to her… and possibly Elm Hill.”
“I watched the video several times.” He clicked the video file on his computer. “Here.”
Katie watched it four times. She exhaled loudly and leaned back in her chair. “Well, by the build of the man, it definitely isn’t Hugh Keller. This guy is leaner. We can now tell it’s a man, but who? And of course, why was he visiting McDonald?”
“And then shortly afterward, McDonald commits suicide.”
Katie stood up and made a couple of notes on the murder board.
“Sorry it wasn’t better news,” he said.
“Okay,” she said, sitting down. “Did you get a chance to read my copy of the interview with Candace Harlan?”
Last Girls Alive: A totally addictive crime thriller and mystery novel (Detective Katie Scott Book 4) Page 23