Her Final Prayer: A totally gripping and heart-stopping crime thriller (Detective Clara Jefferies Book 2)

by Kathryn Casey

  “That’s the way it looks,” the tech said, and Stef nodded in agreement.

  “Interesting theory,” I said. “But what if it was a woman, and she had a gun? Remember, the outside victims were shot and we found a gun in the woods.”

  They looked at each other, and Stef shook her head. “Guess it could be?”

  “Guns give folks a lot of power. She could have forced Jacob to get down on the floor,” I explained. “Your theory has potential. But a word of caution: don’t read too much into one piece of evidence. You have to look at the whole picture. But good job, you two. Those blood smears could have easily been missed.”

  “Thanks, Chief,” Stef said, then she motioned toward the tech guy beside her. “We did it together.”

  “You’re done in the nursery? I need to get a few things for the baby, diapers, clothes and such.”

  “Yup, the room’s all clear,” the tech said. “We didn’t find anything to indicate it was part of the crime scene.”

  As I turned to leave, Stef stopped me by asking, “Chief, why do you think he did that?”

  “What?”

  “The lipstick on the woman. Why would someone do that?”

  “Stef, the woman on the bed upstairs has a name. Laurel Johansson. Let’s use it,” I suggested. “And whoever did it to her wanted to send some kind of message. I have a theory, but we won’t know until we get further into this if it holds up.”

  “Laurel?” Stef asked. Her spine arched back in surprise. “That’s not Detective Mullins’ Laurel, is it? His daughter?”

  In my insistence that we treat the victims as individuals, I hadn’t handled this well. I should have known that Mullins might have mentioned his daughter at the station, that Stef might be aware of her. “It’s—”

  “It is her,” Stef said. The exhilaration she’d had since arriving on the scene drained from her eyes, and she appeared shaken. “I didn’t recognize her, but I met her once, not long after I first started in the department. I didn’t remember that she was married to Jacob Johansson. I just knew her as Mullins’ daughter. She stopped in while she was in town grocery shopping, to say hi to him. She was so nice. Just the sweetest…”

  My budding CSI officer, our rookie who until that moment thought the crime scene was all textbooks and mystery novels, dropped her head and closed her eyes. I knew that she was experiencing something we all have to at some point if we’re going to be good at our jobs and also retain our humanity: from this moment on, Stef would understand that murder victims aren’t bodies or remains; they’re people. Real people. And that’s why all of it matters.

  I considered consoling Stef, but I knew she wouldn’t want that. She needed to have room to process her feelings, so I turned to the crime scene tech, who stood back tongue-tied and watched his young charge learn a tough lesson. “You want to come with me upstairs, make sure I don’t disturb anything while I’m getting what I need?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said.

  As we walked off, I noticed Stef rub her eyes, wiping away a tear.

  Ten

  In the nursery, the tech helped me shuffle through Jeremy’s tiny clothes, onesies with trains and trucks, soft blue blanket sleepers with teddy bears on the chest. I held a pair of pajamas in my hands, heartbreakingly small, decorated with miniature dinosaurs, and a wave of remorse flowed through me as I thought of the children I’d never had. I considered, not for the first time, that my marriage had no upside. I bore the scars of that unholy union. The man my parents forced me to marry was as desolate as the alfalfa fields around town in the dead of winter.

  When I got to the Suburban, I threw the bag packed tight with diapers and clothes into the back. We should have had a car seat for Jeremy, but I hadn’t been able to find one. “Let’s go,” I said.

  The baby cuddled to her chest, Naomi shot me a peeved look. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this. You’re going to have to call Ardeth as you said you would. I’m not going to do it.”

  As promised, on the way to the station I had Naomi dial the house landline. “It’s Clara, Mother. Naomi is with me. I assume you’ve heard what’s happened at the Johanssons’ ranch?” In Alber, bad news spread faster than maple syrup on hot flapjacks.

  “Yes, well, I did hear, and—” Mother started.

  “I’m sure you understand then that we need Naomi down at the station to file a report. And the van is tied up inside the crime scene tape for the time being, so she won’t be able to drive it home for at least a couple of hours.”

  “No!” Mother snapped. “Put her on the phone! Now!”

  I glanced over at Naomi, who gulped. I guessed she’d heard Mother and was having a hard time holding down her breakfast.

  “Naomi can’t talk to you right now. She’s busy taking care of a baby we found alive at the scene,” I said. “You’ll have to talk to me.”

  I could feel Mother’s anger build even over the phone. “Clara, I need the van within the hour. And I don’t want Naomi talking to any police. I’m grateful for what you did, that you helped us last summer when we needed it, but I can’t have you around the family.”

  “Mother, Naomi is a witness in a quadruple murder case,” I pointed out. “Of course she has to talk to the police. And I am Alber’s police chief. So that means she has to talk to me.”

  The phone went quiet. My greatest regret was that while I’d left Alber to save my own life, not to separate myself from those I loved, that had been the painful consequence.

  I’d returned out of love to help my family, but Mother still barred me from spending time with my siblings. More than anything else, Mother feared the outside world, and I had become part of it. I was no longer bound by the strictures of Elijah’s People, and she worried that my brothers and sisters would see how I lived and question their own place in the sect. As much as I hoped for an opportunity to build a bridge over the crater between Mother and I, she simply wouldn’t have it. Perhaps that was the reason I’d yet to put down any permanent roots in Alber. Or maybe the town just held too many bad memories.

  Rather than acknowledge that what I’d said was true, Mother remained silent, seething, I suspected. Eventually, her voice gravel, she said, “And how will I get the shopping done? I need to drive to Walmart in Pine City. We are nearly out of milk for the children.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m sure it will work out. Right now, there’s nothing to be done.” I then said goodbye and hung up before she had time to object.

  At PD headquarters, Naomi and I bustled in, she carrying the baby, me my shoulder bag and the diaper bag slung over my arm. Jeremy was fussy and kept nuzzling toward Naomi’s chest, I assumed anticipating lunch. I looked in between the blanket folds and saw his tiny nose, the sparse lashes that framed his blue eyes. The little guy had been surprisingly patient. Kellie manned the desk. She was petite with curly sunflower-yellow hair cut short, and had a habit of twitching her nose when she got nervous—something she did as she jumped up as soon as I walked in. “You need to go on a supply run,” I said. “The grocery store.”

  “Yes, Chief, what do you—”

  “Baby formula, bottles, for this little one. Ask one of the clerks, an older woman who looks like she has a bunch of kids, what type of formula is good for a newborn who has been nursing.” I opened my bag and pulled a couple of twenties out of my wallet. “Save the receipt and you can reimburse me out of petty cash.”

  “Maybe more diapers, too,” Naomi suggested.

  I thought about the dozen or so I had in the diaper bag, all I found in the nursery. Laurel must have had more stashed somewhere, but I didn’t see them. Naomi was probably right. I took out a third twenty, pretty much all the cash I had, handed it over and said, “Kellie, where’s Detective Mullins? Where’s Carl Shipley?”

  “Detective Mullins is in the conference room with Chief Deputy Anderson,” she said, a deep frown on her usually smiling face. “I heard that one of the victims is the detective’s daughter. He came in pretty upset and
started to go after Mr. Shipley. A couple of the guys got in between and separated them.”

  It appeared that we were going to continue to have fires to put out. “And Carl Shipley?”

  “He’s in interview room number one,” she said. “Chief, he’s been making noises about calling a lawyer but he hasn’t actually asked for one yet. Something must have happened out at his house? He mumbled that you lied to him and you’re going to charge him for holding a gun on Detective Mullins?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it,” I said. “I’ll get someone to take over the desk for you. Just hurry and get those baby supplies.”

  As ordered, Kellie headed for the door, and I called over to Officer Bill Conroy to cover reception—he was one of our up-and-comers, a young guy who’d been showing some good instincts since I arrived. “Is it true what we heard, that Detective Mullins’ daughter Laurel is among the dead?” Conroy asked.

  “Yes,” I thought the kid looked like he might have been crying. His winter-blue eyes clouded over with the confirmation. Conroy and Mullins were close. I’d heard that they sometimes palled around after work. “Unfortunately, that is true.”

  “I’m gonna have to go home after this then,” Conroy said. “I need to tell the family.”

  “Mullins will probably want to break the news to his—” I began to explain.

  “Chief, one of my moms is Mullins’ half-sister,” Conroy explained. “And my grandpa, Mullins’ dad, is gonna need to be told. He’s old and not in good shape. This is going to shake him.”

  That’s the thing about plural marriage; lots of moms coming from the same families in a small town. It made it hard to keep track of who was related to whom. Conroy ran his hand through his shock of dark blond hair. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet,” he said. “But Anna and Laurel, they were really great people, the kind that would help anyone in a jam. Both of them as kind as the sun is bright. I can’t think why anyone would do this to them.”

  I nodded. “I’ve heard. Sure, take an hour off to get with your family. I’m sorry, but then I’ll need you to head back here. I wish you could have longer, but we need you to work this. We’ll be chasing leads, I hope.”

  “You bet,” he said, for the first time looking pleased. “Nothing I’d like better than to find the guy responsible.”

  “Me either,” I said. “Listen, while you’re on the desk, call the county family services office and get a social worker out here. We need to place the baby.”

  Naomi’s antennae rose up and she insisted, “I’ll care for Jeremy.”

  I put my hand up to stop her. “It has to go through channels. There are regulations. And my guess is that Jeremy will be placed with a relative for now, an aunt most likely.”

  “Well, if you must.” Naomi scowled at me, plainly disappointed. It struck me as odd when she asked, “Will Jacob be told that I helped with the child?”

  I stared at her a moment and wondered why she’d asked that. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate all you’ve done, calling for help, looking after the baby.”

  Naomi seemed pleased by that, but then pointed out, “If he lives.”

  “Yes, if Jacob lives,” I agreed.

  That settled, I shepherded Naomi past the officers’ cubicles and down the hall to interview room number two. “Wait here,” I said. “Kellie will bring you the formula as soon as she gets back.”

  I started to walk away when she shouted after me. “Clara, I need that.” When I didn’t answer, she said, “The diaper bag.”

  “Of course you do.” I unslung it from my shoulder and put it on the table. “It’ll be an hour, maybe a little more, but I’ll be back. Don’t leave.”

  Naomi gave me another of her frowns, which I was getting pretty good at ignoring. On my way out of the room, I closed the door. Before I interrogated Carl, I had questions to ask my head detective, who it appeared had a hard time holding his temper.

  “You went after Carl again?” I charged as I walked into the conference room.

  The blinds were closed, making the room dim, and Mullins had his face buried in his hands. It was one of those you-could-cut-the-tension-with-a-knife atmospheres. It looked like Mullins had been crying, and Max had his hand on one of his shoulders, trying to console him. As soon as I said it, I regretted not starting out the conversation with a bit of empathy instead of an attack. But we had four dead bodies, two were children, and a guy with a cut throat. I couldn’t have anyone, not even a victim’s dad and my lead detective, undercutting the investigation. “Mullins, I am sincerely sorry for your loss, for your daughter’s death.”

  “Yeah, I know. Everyone’s sorry,” he said from between his fingers. “You’re all sad that the monster down the hall murdered my daughter. I’ve got it.”

  Frowning at him, I was trying to decide what to say when Max spoke up. “The chief is trying to help, Mullins. You know that. We want to find out who murdered Laurel, Anna and the children.”

  Mullins remained silent, maybe assuming that wasn’t something he had to remark on.

  “How are we supposed to solve this case, Mullins, if you continue to interfere and put the man you peg as the main suspect on guard?” I asked. “You know that’s not a good thing. We need to convince him to talk to us.”

  Mullins dropped his hands and looked up at me. “You can’t blame me, Chief. That man killed my girl.”

  He had a point, if Carl was truly guilty. But as far as I knew, we didn’t have any evidence against the guy. “Let’s back it up,” I said. “Start at the beginning. Give us some context about all this. When did Laurel marry Jacob?”

  For half an hour or so, Max and I listened while Mullins talked. Some of what he said we already knew, for instance that for years Jacob and Carl lived in Mexico, high in a mountain town, with a splinter group of Elijah’s People. While my hometown had never been welcoming to strangers, always a cultish place, wary of unfamiliar faces, El Pueblo de Elijah sounded even more reclusive. According to Mullins, armed guards working for the sect’s hierarchy patrolled the roads leading into the town. Strangers weren’t allowed in.

  As Mullins talked, he detailed the similarities between the folks I’d grown up with in Alber and the ones in El Pueblo de Elijah. They shared the faith’s belief in plural marriage, revered as the Divine Principle. The Mexican branch followed the same prophet folks in Alber did: Emil Barstow. An octogenarian, he’d controlled the town with an iron hand until he was sentenced to years in a federal prison for marrying off underage girls to older men.

  It was in Mexico that Jacob met and married Anna, a Mexican national who came from a neighboring village. Their two children, Sybille and Benjamin, were born there. Then, Jacob’s parents asked him to return to Alber to take over the bison ranch. Aging, Michael and Reba couldn’t keep up with the grueling schedule the vast operation required. Jacob agreed with two stipulations: that he was given a second wife and that his pal, Carl, be allowed to return with him.

  “Carl was allowed to return home?” I questioned. “Mullins, you’re saying Carl was driven out?”

  “Yeah, he was. After he was convicted and served time on that assault charge, the prophet had ordered Carl to leave Alber. He was the reason Jacob moved to Mexico, to be with him. They’ve always been close, those two.”

  “And when did Laurel and Jacob get together?” Max asked.

  “Right after Jacob returned. He saw Laurel on the street and asked about her, told his father that he wanted to marry her. Jacob’s father, Michael, sent a message to the prophet in prison, asked him for Laurel for his boy. The prophet issued an edict, said he’d had a holy revelation and my girl was to marry Jacob. They were married a few weeks later.”

  At that, Mullins concealed his face behind his hands again, I sensed not wanting to show either of us his pain. I sat next to him. “It’s okay, Jeff.” I didn’t often address my detective by his first name, and Mullins looked over at me, perhaps surprised. “Max and I understand that this is hard. You’r
e a grieving father right now, not a cop. We’re working this, not you. You don’t need your game face on. Okay?”

  Mullins twisted into a painful grimace and dropped his head. A tear traced the scar down his cheek and fell onto his folded hands.

  “What was the marriage like?” I asked.

  “I don’t think we should talk, I mean, personal stuff like—” he started, as if he planned to protest.

  “These are the same questions you’d ask a family member if you were investigating this case, right?” I pointed out.

  Mullins paused. “Right.”

  “Tell us about the marriage,” I said again.

  “Not particularly happy,” Mullins said. “Laurel didn’t want to marry Jacob. She had other ideas. But when she got pregnant right away, she settled in some. And when Jeremy showed up, well, she fell in love with the child like he was the sun and the moon.”

  I thought of Laurel in her sweet nightgown, her mouth inflamed with the bright red lipstick ring. “Is there any reason anyone would want to hurt her? Or anyone in the family that you know of?”

  “No,” Mullins said. “The only trouble I know of involved Carl.”

  “Now tell us about him,” Max said.

  At that, Mullins began kneading his hands, one into the other. As he talked, he pushed harder, as if working the words out through his motions. “From the beginning, Laurel didn’t like Carl, didn’t want anything to do with him. She’s complained all along that he seemed too interested in her,” Mullins said. “She and Anna both told Jacob they didn’t want him at the house unless Jacob was home. But Jacob said Carl could come whenever he wanted. He ordered the women to be hospitable to him. I talked to Jacob about that. I didn’t like it, making the women put up with a guy like that. Jacob told me to mind my own business.”

  “When was that?” I asked.

  “Maybe a month ago. Not long after Jeremy was born.” I could see Mullins’ anger. “Last week, Laurel called me upset and said Carl walked in the nursery while she was nursing the baby. She covered up and told him to leave. He refused. Laurel didn’t like the way Carl looked at her.”