Her Last Whisper: An absolutely unputdownable crime thriller (Detective Katie Scott Book 2)

by Jennifer Chase

  Standing a foot from the doors, she leaned in and listened. It was quiet. No voices. No movement detected. She hesitated whether or not to peek inside. After a moment of contemplation, she decided to walk back down the hallway.

  She was just turning when a piercing scream rang out.

  Without hesitation, Katie ran to the doors and burst through the entrance into the large living space and instinctively headed toward the balcony. The scream sounded as if it came from outside. As she reached the heavy railing, she saw a dark hoodie caught there, blowing slightly in the wind.

  Looking all around her, Katie didn’t see anyone so she carefully moved to the railing and peered down. The outline of a woman was smashed against the cement surrounding the pool. A few horrified bystanders rushed to her aid and then retreated, realizing that there was nothing they could do for her. The people automatically looked upward.

  Katie gasped and quickly turned back. She was moving through the large patio door, running toward the doorway, when she was hit against the back of her head. She catapulted forward and hit the floor with force.

  Forty-Six

  “Katie, Katie,” repeated McGaven. “You okay?” His voice was filled with distress. “Can you hear me? Katie?”

  Katie heard him talking to her and she gradually began to stir. “Yeah,” she managed to say, rolling to her side. A horrendous headache gripped her, making it difficult to think clearly. She slowly sat up and then stood. “My head.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Her memory flooded back. “I was outside in the hallway… I heard a scream…” she managed to say while rubbing her temples to try to stop the pulsating pain.

  “Who was here?”

  “I don’t know… didn’t see anyone.”

  “You didn’t see anyone?” he asked.

  “No. The woman fell.”

  “We know, the first responders are on their way. We need to get you checked out.”

  “No,” she said adamantly. “I’m okay—just a bump. I want to go down there.”

  “No way, you need to see the paramedic at least.”

  “After,” she said and headed out the door. Her balance became steady and her headache lessened.

  As they both exited the room, Dr. Jamison headed down the hall toward them.

  McGaven pulled his weapon and aimed it directly at the doctor. “Sheriff’s office. Stay right there. Put your hands in the air. Now!”

  “What’s going on?” he said. “I don’t understand.”

  Katie had retrieved her small weapon from her ankle holster and took aim. “Do as he says! Now!” Her headache pulsed, making it difficult to keep her focus steady.

  “Okay, okay,” he said and put his hands in the air.

  McGaven holstered his gun and took his handcuffs out, restraining the doctor.

  Again, the doctor repeated, “What’s going on? Where’s Emily?”

  “Emily?” Katie said.

  “Yes,” he said and appeared distraught.

  “Emily Day?” she asked.

  “Yes. Who are you?”

  “I’m Detective Katie Scott from the sheriff’s office and this is Deputy McGaven. We haven’t formally met yet—just played phone tag.”

  The doctor had a look of acknowledgment as he studied both of them.

  McGaven guided the doctor back into the main room and sat him on the sofa.

  Dr. Jamison looked confused and genuinely concerned. “Where’s Emily?”

  “Interesting question, since someone pushed her off the balcony and assaulted a police detective on their way out,” said McGaven.

  “What do you mean? I was down at the spa. I left my wallet down there the other day and I was retrieving it but—”

  “Convenient timing.”

  “You mean Emily fell? She’s…” Jamison couldn’t finish his sentence.

  “You have an answer for everything,” said McGaven.

  Two deputies entered the room and looked around. One of them said, “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine,” said Katie. “Watch him, we’re going downstairs. Don’t touch anything and don’t let anyone in until forensics gets here.”

  The deputies nodded, one taking watch at the door while the other one took a position next to Dr. Jamison.

  Katie and McGaven hurried to an elevator.

  She hesitated.

  “What?” said McGaven.

  “The elevator.”

  “C’mon, let’s go,” he said. “It’s not the same one. No way getting stuck in an elevator would happen twice in one day.”

  Katie made a sour face.

  They rode all the way to the main level without any trouble. Katie was relieved there wasn’t a glitch this time and quickly moved to the doors opening into the pool area. There were several guests and hotel employees huddled in small groups, recounting the horror of what they had seen.

  Katie burst through the doors and wasn’t quite prepared to see the carnage of what happened to a body when it hit the ground from fifteen floors up. It was beyond gruesome. She grabbed a white towel from a beach chair and laid it over Emily’s broken body, covering what was left of her head. It stung Katie deep. This was the second woman she had spoken with who had met their death. She couldn’t think about it now, only the facts.

  “It’s beginning to look even more like Dr. Jamison has some serious explaining to do,” said McGaven.

  “Maybe there’s a reason he’s been avoiding me,” she said.

  McGaven remained quiet.

  Some people began inching toward the pool area. “Please stay back,” ordered Katie.

  She heard sirens coming into the hotel parking lot.

  “Something bothering you?” asked McGaven.

  “One, I need to go find my shoes. And two, make sure that John and his crew dust for prints all around the balcony and entrance—and bag Emily’s hoodie for examination.”

  “You okay?”

  Katie nodded.

  He pulled out his cell phone and dialed John.

  Katie’s cell phone vibrated and alerted her to a text message from Denise:

  Hi, don’t know where you are but found out that James Haines just got out of jail (drunk and disorderly) a few weeks ago. His two known associates are Craig Porter and Nadine McMillian. Mean anything?

  Forty-Seven

  Thursday 1525 hours

  Dr. Kenneth Jamison had been brought back to the sheriff’s department for questioning. He hadn’t been officially charged yet—he was merely a person of interest until his charges were upgraded and forensics tests concluded. The police wanted to know what he had to say about Emily Day and her fall—and the homicide of Amanda Payton. There was a fine line for any investigator to walk when the interrogation teetered on a full confession or complete denial.

  Katie had gone back to her office to change back into her work clothes and pull her hair back. She tried not to think about how important this interview was to the investigation. When she was a patrol officer, her interviews were casual and usually undertaken behind her patrol car. This was a whole new territory for her.

  Interrogation wasn’t something that was taught; it was about knowing a case and gathering information beforehand in hopes of catching the suspect in a lie—and then another lie. It was a chess game she knew her fellow detectives, and her uncle, would be following closely.

  The pressure mounted, but she made sure to keep a level head and not become so nervous that she would derail the interrogation. Breathing steadily, she headed upstairs to the interview rooms in the detective division, where McGaven was already waiting for her.

  As Katie walked into the area, a few of the detectives, including Detective Hamilton, nodded at her with acknowledgment. She exchanged a nod and slight smile and hurried through.

  McGaven greeted her. “You ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said softly.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

  Both detec
tives entered the interview room and McGaven shut the door behind them. The room was small with no windows, a square table set up and moved toward one corner to give the suspect a feeling of claustrophobia, and two empty chairs for the cops—one on one side of the table and the other next to the person of interest.

  The air in the room was kept warmer than the rest of the offices, making interviewees drowsy and more likely to start talking just to get out of the room. According to psychologists, it was a proven fact from many studies that most people want to tell the truth and even feel better after doing so.

  “Dr. Jamison, we met briefly at your suite. Again, I’m Detective Scott and this is Deputy McGaven,” she began and made sure her voice sounded matter of fact with the right amount of authority. She had learned how from her uncle’s example on so many occasions.

  The doctor sat in the uncomfortable chair with his hands on the table, fingers intertwined. He stared straight ahead with a solemn expression, but it was clear that he was terrified and trying to hide behind his privilege. His dark eyes were dilated and he held his hands together to keep them from shaking—not a good trait for a heart surgeon.

  McGaven took a seat, silently watching every move the doctor made.

  Katie pulled out the remaining chair and made herself comfortable. “Doctor, you know that you’re not under arrest, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whenever there is an accident or suicide, we are obligated to talk to everyone that was in the vicinity,” she explained.

  “Of course,” he said, trying to make his voice steady.

  “Where were you when Ms. Day fell?”

  “I went downstairs to the spa to get my wallet. I had left it there from last Tuesday.”

  “We talked to the spa associates and no one talked to you and they said they weren’t aware of your lost wallet.”

  “No, there wasn’t anyone there. I lost my wallet and that was the only place I could figure that I had misplaced it.”

  “So you never actually retrieved your wallet?” Katie pressed.

  “No.”

  “How long had you known Ms. Day?”

  “Several years at the hospital.”

  “Was the hotel suite one of your regular—get-togethers?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Was Ms. Day aware that you are married?”

  “Separated.”

  “Was Ms. Day aware of your separation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you and Ms. Day argue before her fall?”

  He hesitated. “Yes. Earlier, but everything was fine.”

  “Did you hit her?”

  “No, I would never do that.”

  “Did you push her over the railing?”

  “No, God no.” He began to unravel, his hands moved strangely and he kept putting them up to his face and the sides of his head.

  “Dr. Jamison, is there any reason to believe that Ms. Day took her own life?”

  “I’ve been trying to think of a reason, but no, she would never do that—ever. This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What do you expect me to believe? Put yourself in my shoes.”

  “I… I don’t know…”

  “Someone pushed Ms. Day over the railing and someone hit me on the back of the head as they fled. Who? Tell me who would do that just at the same time that you went downstairs to see if your wallet was at the spa?”

  Dr. Jamison’s frustration revealed itself as he pounded his fists once on the table. “I told you… I don’t know…”

  “You were the only one there—so you’re trying to tell me that you didn’t do it? And that we won’t find your prints on the railings?” Katie leaned in, keeping his gaze. “Maybe it was an accident and you ran because you were afraid. Was it an accident?”

  “I didn’t do it!” he yelled.

  “Please calm down, Dr. Jamison. We’re trying to figure out what happened. A woman is dead. There was barely enough of her left to perform any type of autopsy,” Katie stated, still holding her alpha position as the interrogator.

  The doctor looked away from her, obviously trying to get that terrible image out his mind.

  “Let me ask another question. How well did you know Amanda Payton?”

  He looked directly at Katie and said, “I worked with her.”

  “So when did you begin an intimate relationship with her?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, Doctor. Don’t play games with us. You’re in enough trouble right now. How long was your intimate relationship with Amanda Payton?” Katie watched him closely as he appeared to get his story straight in his mind before he answered her directly. She wanted to see a glimmer of recognition or even a look of dread.

  “Answer the question,” said McGaven. His voice almost startled Katie because she was so focused on Dr. Jamison that nothing, or nobody else, was in the room with her.

  He must have thought better and decided to answer the question. “We went out for drinks a few times. We flirted at work, but that was all. We didn’t have a relationship.” He emphasized the word relationship.

  “Is that so?” she said. “So we’re not going to find any of your DNA at Amanda’s crime scene?”

  The doctor remained quiet. It wasn’t clear if he was trying to remember where he might’ve left some DNA or if he just didn’t want to dignify that question with an answer.

  “Dr. Jamison, we have a serious problem,” she said. “More specifically, you have a serious problem. Attractive young women seem to die around you—two women in one week.”

  He looked away, obviously trying to pretend he was somewhere else—anywhere.

  Finally he said, “Are you going to arrest me?” He looked defeated.

  Katie studied his face and mannerisms—especially his hands, which told quite a bit about people and how they held or released their stress levels.

  McGaven looked at Katie with a calm demeanor, waiting for her answer.

  “Dr. Jamison, is your father’s name Kenneth Jamison senior?” Katie changed tack, trying to knock the doctor off balance.

  “What?”

  “Kenneth Jamison senior?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does your father do?”

  “He died two years ago. What does this have to do with…?”

  “What did he do for a living?”

  He hesitated, clearly confused. “He was a real estate developer.”

  “Here in this county?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “The Magna Group?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Have you heard of the Woodland Pines Project, which is now the Basin Woods Development—what’s left of it.”

  “I don’t understand what this has to do with Emily’s death.”

  “Did you know that Amanda Payton was kidnapped, taken hostage, and held in one of the abandoned houses in Basin Woods?”

  Dr. Jamison still seemed confused, but he knew what Katie was talking about. “You’re talking about a project of my father’s when I was a kid.”

  “But you are aware of the area, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Had Emily had any problems lately? Anything she was upset about?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Did Amanda ever come to you, or confide in you, about anything that was bothering her?”

  “I don’t know… maybe… like what?” He began to let his frustration show.

  Not missing a beat, she said: “Anything that happened to her that she was upset about?”

  “Amanda? I don’t know. She was moody, you can ask anyone at the hospital,” he replied.

  “C’mon, Doctor, what was the gossip around the hospital?”

  “What I heard was she was attacked and there was talk about an old boyfriend. But we had not had any relations way before all that happened, then she quit. I never saw her again.” He shifted in his chair, not looking at Katie or McGaven.

  McGaven budged his cha
ir closer to the doctor. It was an old technique when interviewing suspects, when a detective would take away space around them—giving the person of interest the squeeze. It was doubly effective because McGaven was a big officer.

  Katie stood up and sat on the edge of the table. “Did you care about Emily?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you have the same affection for Amanda?”

  “I cared about her. She was actually a great nurse—better than most.”

  “Are you seeing anyone now, well, except for Emily?”

  “No, no one.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, give us a minute,” said Katie and she motioned for McGaven to leave the room with her.

  They shut the interview room door and walked down the hallway a little ways to have a quiet conference.

  Katie quickly reread her text message from Denise and was relieved that there were leads to track down Nick’s brother. She switched back to the doctor’s interview.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I think he’s telling the truth but holding back on something.”

  “I agree. There’s nothing we can officially hold him on. We have to cut him loose and wait for what comes back from forensics before we can obtain an arrest warrant.” Katie shifted her weight, thinking, biting her thumbnail. “I have a difficult time seeing him as the killer—”

  “A little too convenient?” said McGaven.

  “Just what I was thinking.”

  Forty-Eight

  Thursday 1635 hours

  Katie and McGaven sat in Katie’s favorite diner grabbing a quick late lunch after Dr. Jamison’s interview before returning to the department. Since it was in between lunch and dinner, the restaurant was empty except for a group of four at a nearby table.

  Katie was lost in thought, picking at her turkey sandwich. She reran Dr. Jamison’s answers and his reactions to her questions, but nothing seemed to indicate that he was lying. He appeared shocked by Emily’s death and hadn’t become increasingly agitated. His mood was more scared and confused, but there were hesitations, perhaps of something he didn’t want her to know.