Her Last Whisper: An absolutely unputdownable crime thriller (Detective Katie Scott Book 2)
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Her Last Whisper
An absolutely unputdownable crime thriller
Jennifer Chase
Books by Jennifer Chase
Detective Katie Scott Series
Little Girls Sleeping
Her Last Whisper
Flowers on Her Grave
Emily Stone Series
Compulsion
Dead Game
Dark Mind
Dead Burn
Dark Pursuit
Dead Cold
Chip Palmer Series
Scene of the Crime
Body of the Crime
Standalones
Silent Partner
Short Stories
First Watch
Never Forgotten
Available in Audio
Little Girls Sleeping (Available in the UK and the US)
Her Last Whisper (Available in the UK and the US)
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Flowers on Her Grave
Hear More from Jennifer
Books by Jennifer Chase
A Letter from Jennifer
Little Girls Sleeping
Acknowledgements
For the hardworking and diligent cold-case detectives that refuse to let cases remain unsolved.
Prologue
A heavy evening mist clung to the windshield of the police car, obscuring the view of the forgotten neighborhood. In the few occupied houses curtains were drawn tightly leaving only thin cracks of light seeping around the edges. Some homes even had bars across the windows. This small rural community had been ignored by the rest of the lively, growing town around it for too long. It was in desperate need of attention and restoration.
Deputy Stan Miller flipped on the wipers to clear his view, only to smear streaks of dirt across the windshield. He let out an annoyed sigh and turned the wipers to a higher speed—making it worse—and then off again.
“Now you’ve done it,” said Deputy Karl Windham beside him, and Miller laughed in spite of himself after a long and uneventful night shift.
“You’re going to criticize me?” Miller joked. “Me? The guy who has your back?” He sat up straighter, sucking in his waist and adjusting his seatbelt; it was no use pretending he hadn’t put on a few extra pounds recently.
“It’s the kiss of death out here tonight,” complained Windham watching out the side window as the mist turned to light rain.
“I bet it was Sheriff Scott’s idea to double us up, with all those recent ambushes on cops around the state.”
“It probably has something to do with the mayor’s office. Who knows? You know how they don’t tell us anything, even though we’re the ones putting our asses on the line every shift.” Still gazing out of the window, he watched a dark figure dart around a garbage can and disappear into the darkness, then he turned his attention to a skinny cat scurrying along the sidewalk, nose close to the ground tracking something.
The rain got heavier as they drove deeper into the Basin Woods Development. There were no other vehicles on the road. No lights in the distance. Only darkness.
“You hungry?” asked Miller.
“I wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee,” replied Windham.
“Me neither.”
Deputy Miller took his eyes off the road for a moment to check the time and looked back just in time to see a slender woman stagger into the road ahead of them. She stopped still in the headlights. Her long hair, wet from the rain, was plastered against her head and around her face. She wore only a pair of panties and a tattered tank top. She looked terrified, dark eyes pleading in the glare of the lights, her mouth forming words they could not hear.
“Hey!” yelled Windham to his partner. “Stop!”
Miller jammed on the brakes, making the patrol car bounce to a stop inches before hitting the young woman. Weak and unbalanced, she fell to her knees. In the glare of the headlights, both men could clearly see the dirt embedded on her face and neck, the blood seeping from wounds on her hands, elbows, legs, and feet.
Deputy Miller turned to his partner with wide eyes. “What the…?” Jamming the vehicle into park he picked up the radio. “Dispatch, this is 3741, we have a possible 10-16 at Lincoln and Travis. Will keep you updated. Copy.”
“Copy that,” replied Dispatch.
He nodded to Windham who swung open the car door and ran to kneel beside the woman. “Miss…” he spoke gently. “Are you alright?”
She shook uncontrollably. Her head and shoulders drooped while her mouth tried to form around a word.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Windham said.
He gently touched her shoulder and she flinched away from him. “It’s okay. You’re okay now,” he reassured.
“Truth… truth… the truth… you don’t understand… otherwise…” she finally managed between gasps for breath. “I told the truth…” she muttered.
“What truth?” asked Deputy Miller who had retrieved a blanket from the trunk and now stood a few feet away.
She stopped speaking and slowly looked up at the deputy, her eyes filled with fear. Then she whispered, “I told the truth… I told the truth… told… the truth.”
Both deputies carefully helped the woman up and gently wrapped the blanket around her.
“What’s your name?” asked Windham.
“A… Aman… Amanda,” she said slowly.
“Okay, Amanda. We want to help you. Can you tell us what happened?”
“I tried…” she whispered. “It was…” Her voice trailed off.
Deputy Miller opened the back door to the patrol car as his part
ner gently guided her to sit down in the backseat. Miller handed her a small bottle of water and, after a few moments, her eyes focused on the officers and her breath began to steady.
Deputy Windham kneeled down to her eye level and asked, “Amanda, can you tell us what happened to you? Do you remember what happened? Anything?”
She shook her head as more tears welled up in her eyes.
“It’s okay.”
“A blue door with white trim,” she said quietly. “A big box…”
“What else, Amanda? Can you remember anything else?”
“There was a fantasy tree…”
Confused by the description, the deputy tried to make sense of it, pushing gently to pry out any more details from her. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Taking a couple of deep breaths, she finally spoke: “I was k-kidnapped.”
One
Six months and three days later… Monday 0705 hours
Detective Katie Scott drove her Jeep into the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department parking lot and turned off the engine. She sat for a moment gathering her thoughts as she stared through the windshield at the rusty chain-link fence in front of her. She took several long, deep breaths to steady her anxiety. Today was her first day in her new job and her nerves were jangling.
Am I good enough to head the cold-case unit?
Katie had always wanted to be a police officer and ultimately a detective. This was her chance to prove, not only to herself but to anyone that doubted, that she could.
Can I mentally handle the caseload?
Katie had been through tough times, losing her parents, losing friends on the battlefield, but she never backed away from a challenge even when she knew it would leave a scar. She would do everything possible to find the culprits responsible for their crimes. Two years as a patrol officer and nearly four years as an Army K9 handler had brought her to this moment, to this job. Today was finally the day when she would lead the cold-case unit.
Angst tingled through her body, calling distant memories of the battlefield; images filtered into her brain, her senses heightened, the faint smell of expelled gunfire filled the air. Though she had a better handle on it now, her PTSD was a burden she would most likely carry with her forever. She’d purposely never been officially diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, afraid of the burden and stigma that came with it. For now, she pushed those images from her mind.
After the missing person’s case she’d been involved with barely six months ago, Sheriff Wayne Scott had ordered her to take some personal leave before beginning her new position. She didn’t want to admit it, but the rest had done her some good. Though her now elevated pulse told her otherwise, she was refreshed, rested, and ready to take on any assignment, no matter how big or small.
Glancing down at the passenger seat, she smiled at the sight of her new leather briefcase, coffee thermos filled with extra-strong java, and her freshly pressed suit jacket. She wanted to take a moment before everything changed.
Her cell phone buzzed with the arrival of a text from the sheriff:
Go to forensics first.
Sink or swim… she thought to herself as she grabbed her things, making sure her holstered gun and detective badge were secured properly at her waist. Exiting her car, she hurriedly slipped on her jacket. She might not feel like a detective yet, but at least she was going to look like one.
Quickly walking through the main entrance, she waved to the receptionist and crossed a large open area to the farthest corner where there was an unmarked door guarded by a small video lens, now directed at her from above. She pressed a button and waited for the door to unlock.
Hearing the click, she pushed through the door and made her way down the narrow wooden staircase leading to the main room in the forensic division. Katie figured that the sheriff must already have a case for her and wanted her down here to see some of the physical evidence first. She had spent some time in forensics working the missing girl case, so the area was familiar to her.
“Hello?” she called out as she hit the last step.
Silence.
“Hello?” she said again. “John?” She addressed the forensic supervisor. “Sheriff Scott?”
Again, no answer.
Katie let out a breath and looked around, her enthusiasm fading. “Anyone around? Hello?”
Walking down the long hallway with closed office doors lining both sides, she looked back and forth, calling out again. She was just about to turn around when a yellow sticky note on a door caught her attention.
DETECTIVE SCOTT ==>>>
Katie smiled. “Okay, what’s going on?” She knew something was up. She didn’t immediately recognize the handwriting, but thought that it most likely belonged to John.
There were two doors at the end of the hallway, opposite one another. She had never been to that part of the forensic lab before and assumed it was more offices or storage areas. When the department had originally built the forensic unit, it was slated for a larger staff than it had currently.
“Okay, no one better jump out at me,” she said, grabbing the handle of the door on the left and pushing it wide. The room was empty except for the custom built-ins at the farthest side of the work area and a sink.
Disappointment and confusion flooded through her. She had imagined her first day would start with combing through old and new files, matching evidence, and reading through folders filled with detective reports. This was definitely not how it was supposed to go—a cryptic scavenger hunt.
Glancing at her watch, she was now officially twenty minutes late for the first day on the job. Putting down her briefcase, she reached for the other door and opened it.
“Surprise!” yelled the group huddled in front of her.
Katie stood in complete shock staring at all the friendly faces including the sheriff, Deputy McGaven, Denise from records, John from forensics, and a couple of other deputies.
“Look, she’s speechless!” laughed Deputy McGaven who had worked with her during the previous missing girl cases.
“Now that’s a first,” replied Sheriff Scott.
“What is all this?” she asked gaining her composure. “I don’t understand.” She gaped at the dusty old office, which had two large work desks and two chairs, several tall filing cabinets, a bookcase, and a few storage areas. A large freestanding ink board stood in the corner. She took in the desktop computer, laptop, and miscellaneous office supplies beside two extra-tall stacks of boxes, which she assumed were filled with unsolved case files. The room must have been a storage area before the furniture and boxes were moved into it.
Sheriff Scott came forward and announced, “This is your new office, Detective Scott.”
“Here?” she said.
“Over the past two months, there has been some rearranging of the detective division, including a new person joining the staff,” the sheriff explained.
“But I thought—” she began.
He continued, “So we thought working in the forensic area would be perfect for you. You would have all the cold-case files and evidence closer to you, and it’s a much bigger office, so we could add another person if needed. But that would be a little further down the road.”
“I really don’t know what to say,” Katie said. “This is… this is absolutely amazing. Thank you.”
Everyone expressed their congratulations and began to file out of the room one at a time.
Denise gave Katie a hug and said, “Congratulations. You deserve this. Now remember, I’m just up there if you need any searches done that you don’t have time for.” She laughed and pointed upward to the administrative level.
“Hey, great office,” stated McGaven and gave her a high-five slap.
John approached her and smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you a lot more around here. Congratulations.” He left.
Katie was left alone with the sheriff. She took a quick look around to make sure everyone had gone before she said, “Uncle Wayne, this is
amazing. I can’t believe I get to work here.”
“Well, by my calculations you will probably be out a lot following leads.”
“You’re probably right,” she said.
“At least this way you don’t have to turn your spare room at home into a crime scene office anymore.”
Katie looked around again, now seeing a vase of spring flowers sitting on one of the shelves with some cards lying next to it. “What case do you want me to work first?”
“Detective, that’s entirely up to you. The top boxes are the ones that I’ve pulled out for first consideration, but after that I’ll just let you follow your nose. Keep me up to date. I would like an official report on my desk at the end of every week, unless there’s something that I need to know about immediately. If you’re going anywhere out of town or rural, please let me know so we can keep track of you.”