by Susan Lund
"You should. I'm pretty sure the FBI took those boxes, but we'll have to go and check. I have the info written down here somewhere if they did."
"We’ll check after lunch," Michael said. "We can go to your dad's place after we're finished, look through the boxes. Then, we'll see who lived there and when. Until then, don't let your mind go to the worst possible case. It may be totally unconnected."
Tess shrugged. At this point, she was prepared to think anything about her father. He'd been best friends with two killers, two child pornographers. He had evidence in his house connected to murders. She exhaled and finished her meal, determined to be strong no matter what the evidence said.
Chapter Thirteen
Later, they drove back to the house and walked over to her dad's place, determined to find the receipts to the apartment in Kennewick and take them over to Chief Hammond so he and Nash could decide if they were important. When they arrived, the place was empty. The police forensic team had finished, and the painters weren't scheduled to work on Saturday, so they could work unimpeded. Michael found the boxes stacked in the back room and together they went through them, one by one. Since they were financial data, Tess hadn't wanted to throw them out, thinking they might be important for tax purposes.
After about twenty minutes, Tess sighed.
"The police must have the box," she said and shrugged. “I have the info back home, so maybe we can call the building manager.”
"If you want, I can call, use my name and position to get whatever info we can. It would ease your mind. Maybe it was your dad sleeping there instead of coming back into Paradise Hill."
"He’d stopped driving long-haul at that point. He'd stopped deliveries completely and was on disability."
"Maybe it was a girlfriend."
"He never said anything about anyone to me."
Michael shrugged. "He probably wouldn't. He might feel awkward about it. I know I've often thought about how Julia and I will deal with new partners with the boys."
"But I did ask him," Tess replied. "I had several conversations with him about it. I was worried that he lived all by himself and was so disabled by the back injury. He said he was happy, and if he met someone, he'd tell me."
"It's a mystery," Michael said with a shrug. "You didn't know your father very well as a man. Who knows what he might have been doing? It could be a family member he was helping out, or a friend. Let's wait until we talk to whoever owned the building, see if they'll help us figure out who was living there at the time."
"Okay," Tess said. She avoided his eyes and he knew she felt he was patronizing her instead of being straight with her. If it had been anyone else's father but Tess's, he would have already brought the man in for questioning, putting him at the top of his list of suspects. But there was something about the man that made him doubt it.
While he would have interviewed Ron if he were still alive, Michael would have been skeptical. There was the evidence, and then there was your gut.
Michael's gut was on Kincaid.
Kincaid was his real main suspect, with maybe John Hammond or Garth as the other half of the serial killer duo—or trio.
The only good thing was that at least the men were no longer free. Kincaid would never get out of jail again before he died, either a natural death from old age or through lethal injection in Idaho.
For the rest of the day, Tess and Michael worked on the case back home, sorting through the files to update everything now that they had the identity of the bones from the attic. Before the end of the day, Michael did some research on the building where Ron McClintock had rented an apartment. He found the name and number of the building manager and called the number, using his name and position with the FBI to request info on who had lived in the apartment during the year that Ron paid rent.
The man gave Michael a bit of a run-around, asking why he needed the information. Deciding to be as honest as possible, Michael told him it was part of a cold case he was consulting with the police on.
"All we need to know is whether Mr. McClintock lived there alone, or whether there was someone else living there at the time."
The man said he would check his records and call back, so at least he would cooperate. Michael was used to all the waiting involved in casework, but he knew that Tess wasn't, and when it had to do with her own family, the waiting was even harder to bear.
He completely understood. She'd be a hard worker if and when she joined the FBI. Special Agents didn't work nine-to-five hours. They worked cases and put in the hours necessary to get the job done. Tess had that kind of mindset, so he figured she'd be great as an investigator. He wanted them to keep seeing each other when they both returned to Seattle, and if she did go to Quantico for FBI training, they could apply to work in the same city.
Just before supper, Michael got another call—this time, it was from Chief Hammond. Tess and his mom were in the kitchen having a beer together and talking about little Lou, while Michael was sitting in the dining room reading over files.
"Hey, Chief," he said, and closed the file he was reading. "What's up?"
"Two things. First, thought you'd like to know we got a heads-up from Roslyn about a prowler who was following some girls home last night just before nine o'clock. He was in the woods while they were walking home; the girls saw him when he made noise. He was wearing all black clothing and a ski mask. One of the girls said he had goggles that looked like telescopes. When they tried to get her to explain, they figured out that she was talking about—get this—night vision glasses.”
That sent a shock through Michael.
"Night vision glasses?"
"Yeah. She said it looked like he had telescopes on his eyes. He ran when he realized they saw him. Anyway, Chief dePaul knows we had some problems with the assault on you and Tess, and with a man wearing night vision glasses, so he called to let me know. The fact that he was following ten- and eleven-year-old girls worries me.”
"It worries me as well," Michael said, knowing precisely what Chief Hammond meant.
This man might be the killer they were seeking. A man stalking ten-year-old girls wearing night vision glasses was serious. It could be completely unrelated, but it could also be someone who had worked with John Hammond and Daryl Kincaid. Someone who might have been part of their little pervert ring.
Roslyn was less than a fifteen-minute drive away. It was hunting season, and hunters often used night vision goggles to hunt at night, but they didn't follow girls, or stalk grown women, or carry crossbows around and aim at houses.
"Did they check the forest for any evidence?"
"Yeah, they sent a team to the area, but they didn't find anything other than some prints. They did a cast of them. Looks like really worn work boots, size eleven. Not much to go on."
"No, but it's more than we had before. I guess we have to re-examine our theories."
"I guess we do."
"The second thing: Care to join me in trip to Coyote Ridge to interview Daryl Kincaid? Nash and I are going up there for a friendly interview—unofficial—about the evidence, see how he responds. I could use your input as to how to approach him. We'll do the interview in a private room. You can't come in during the interview, but you can watch on closed circuit TV in the observation room."
Tess came into the dining room from the kitchen. "I'd love to come with you to interview Daryl Kincaid," he said, repeating it so Tess knew what he was agreeing to. Her eyes widened in response. "When are you going?"
"Tomorrow morning, if you're available."
"I'm at your service."
"Good. Maybe you should come down here this afternoon and we can talk strategy."
"I'll be down in fifteen."
"Make it an hour. I have some business to attend to first but bring a cup of coffee with you from the 7-Eleven. I'm in dire need of some caffeine to keep me awake, and the bilge they make in the office will not do. Had a bad night last night."
"Stress of the case getting to you?"
<
br /> "Nah, just some greasy chicken." Chief Hammond laughed ruefully. "Eugene brought it over for me when I was working late, and I suffered all night. Damn stomach. I should know better, but I have a weakness for it."
"Okay. See you in an hour, cup of 7-Eleven coffee in hand."
Michael ended the call and turned to face Tess, who looked eager to talk.
"Lucky devil," she said, smiling.
"This could all be yours if you, too, become an FBI Special Agent," he said and opened his arms wide. He laughed and leaned over, kissing her, glad that he finally had a romantic partner who understood his own obsession with justice.
"What’s the purpose of the interview?" Tess asked, flipping through the file they had created on him. "Won't this tip him off about the case?"
"He already knows," Michael said. "I mean, the existence of the porn room has already leaked out into the public. This interview is to get some preliminary information from him. See if he's willing to cooperate in return for more favorable terms of any future incarceration."
"Does he know about the girls from Idaho?"
"I expect not," Michael said. "That's fresh and won't be public until the FBI is ready to release that information.”
"So as far as Daryl knows, it's simply about the porn room. Nothing about Patrice’s death or the video? That's got to be a big concern for him."
"He doesn't know about either. Police are keeping several pieces of evidence back for the time being. They'll talk to him about the porn room itself without letting him know about the video. Unless he'd been talking to John Hammond about it, he might not even know that the video still existed. They'll give Daryl the opportunity to come clean and offer to help. If he doesn't, they'll move forward based on that."
"He won't offer to help," Tess said. "Not considering how he's implicated in all of it, and that he's the only one left alive of the four men."
"He might not, but stranger things have happened."
"I envy you," Tess said and kissed Michael. "Oh, to be a fly on the wall of that interrogation."
"Or to be able to watch on closed circuit TV." Michael kissed her back and then got ready to go. "Can you drop me at the station?"
"Sure," she said and pulled on her jacket. "I'll stop by the store and get a few things we need for supper."
"We need to stop at the 7-Eleven first. Gotta keep Chief Joe happy."
"That we do."
They drove to 7-Eleven and after Michael fixed coffee for himself and Chief Hammond, he got into the vehicle and Tess dropped him off at the station. Carrying the coffees in a tray in his good hand, he shouldered the door to the station open and went inside. The door to Chief Hammond’s office was open, so he went right in and placed the tray of coffee down on Chief Joe's desk. The man was on the phone, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, a case file spread out on top of his desk.
He nodded to Michael and pointed to the chair. Michael sat and waited, listening as the chief talked.
"That's good, that's good. We'll be there at eleven. Thanks for your help."
Chief Joe hung up the phone and then turned to Michael.
"Well, that's all arranged. I thought we were going to have to force the issue, but Daryl came around and agreed to meet with us.”
Michael shrugged. "Good. He didn’t ask to have his lawyer present?"
"Nope. Seems he’s happy to talk, especially about John Hammond and Garth."
"Why do you think?"
Chief Joe shrugged. "He probably is thinking he got away with it, seeing as the talk is about John and Garth being the guilty parties. "
"Yes," Michael said. "He must not know about the video."
“Nope. We’ve kept that pretty quiet so far.” Chief Joe exhaled heavily and then shrugged. "I’ll be interested to see how he responds to questions tomorrow about John and Garth. See how he tries to implicate them."
They talked strategy for a while and decided Chief Joe and Special Agent Nash would ask him if he knew about the porn room and his thoughts about the Melissa case. They wouldn't mention Patrice. They'd make it seem like John and Garth were the prime suspects and that they were pursuing leads. They wouldn't mention the findings at the cabin near Spokane either. This was just a sit-down to see what Daryl knew about John Hammond's little porn business and the murders he might have committed. They'd make it sound like they had John and Garth Hammond in their sights and were merely wrapping up loose ends.
If Daryl was any kind of smart, which he was, he'd agree that they were on the right track so he could shift blame from himself onto two people who couldn’t defend themselves. They'd listen to him implicate John in everything and anything, to deflect attention from himself.
Michael couldn't wait to watch.
Chapter Fourteen
On Sunday, Tess spent the morning alone at the house, while Michael went to Coyote Ridge with Chief Hammond and Special Agent Nash. She was not looking forward to a day alone. Mrs. Carter had a bridge game with her friends, and then a Tupperware party. She'd be gone all day.
"They still sell Tupperware?" Tess asked, smiling at Mrs. Carter.
"They surely do. I intend to buy quite a few items. Good for crafting and storage."
Tess itched to do something that would move things forward for her articles. Before he left, Michael suggested that Tess stay at home with the doors locked and the security cameras on.
"I can shoot a gun," Tess said and smiled.
"I'll have mine with me," Michael replied, shaking his head.
"Maybe I better buy one for myself," she replied, leaning up to give him a kiss before he went out the door.
"You could at that," he said. "When I get back, we could go buy one for you."
"Sounds good. Don't enjoy your time at Coyote Ridge too much. You know you shouldn't even be going. What would your supervisor say?"
Michael shrugged. "I'm on the mend. There's no reason I shouldn't offer Chief Joe my expertise so he can deal effectively with the FBI."
"If you think so," she said and watched him as he went down the sidewalk. "Enjoy the trip," she replied.
He walked to Chief Joe's SUV, turning to wave before he got inside.
Chief Joe drove off and Tess glanced over to her father's house. She really should get some more work done on the place—but she was willing to take Michael's advice about keeping safe.
As much as she wanted to do something—anything—she'd stay home and try to work on her article.
About an hour into her afternoon, after eating lunch, she felt like a cup of coffee. When she went to the refrigerator to get the cream, she saw that they were out.
"Damn," she said out loud. Then she smiled to herself—it gave her an excuse to go out and get some cream from the store. She quickly pulled on her jacket and boots and went to her vehicle, glad to have something to do. Michael wouldn't want her to go out by herself when he was out of town, but she needed cream.
You couldn't deny a person coffee when they were as addicted as she was.
She drove to the small grocery store downtown. As she was walking down an aisle, she glanced up to see Eugene turning into the aisle ahead of her, pushing a cart with a few items in it. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and lumberjack shirt with a down vest over top, and a Jets ball cap. She almost didn't recognize him, then spotted his characteristic pointy chin and high cheekbones. When he turned, he glanced up and saw her, she smiled.
"Hey, Eugene," she said, and stopped. "How are you? Out picking up a few items?"
"That I am. I have the boys coming over for a meal Monday and I want to make sure I have their favorites." He pointed to a package of beef short ribs and some sauce. "Nothing like meat on the bone, slow-cooked with some good Louisiana barbecue sauce."
"Sounds good. I'll have to get some one of these days. You off work Monday?"
He nodded. "Yes. I have a long weekend this week. Have the boys with me, so that's always fun. I think Mrs. Carter is having them over for Sunday dinner tonight,
so I guess I'll see you later.”
"Oh, that's nice. She always enjoys seeing them."
"Where's Michael? Is he on the mend?"
She nodded. "He's much better, but they aren't sure he'll get full use of his shoulder back. May not be able to shoot with it."
"Oh, that's really rough," Eugene said, making a face. "What will he do?"
"Maybe go into profiling.”
"That's good. It would be really hard to have to give up being an FBI agent. I know it was pretty much his lifelong goal after Lisa went missing."
"Yes," Tess said. "Absolutely. Both of us were so affected by that. I'm even considering joining the FBI."
"Really?" he said, his expression surprised. "I always thought you were a journalist on the crime beat.”
"I am, but I feel like I want to be right in close to the case. Really get to know what's going on—see the evidence, interrogate the suspects."
"I understand," he said. "I talk to my dad a lot about police business. I can see how you'd feel frustrated, not knowing what the police know."
"That's it, really. I know there's evidence I don't get to see because I'm a civilian. There are questions I can't ask. Journalists only get whatever crumbs the police give us, and usually, it's after the fact."
"Yeah, I can imagine how you'd really love to be right there, alone with a suspect, and get to talk to them, ask them questions. It would be really exciting."
She nodded. Eugene really understood. He had probably wanted to be a cop like Chief Joe.
"How come you never went into law enforcement?" she asked, curious.
He paused, made a face like he was thinking seriously about the question. "Why indeed? You might say I wanted to be an independent contractor at some point, not have a boss. I'm more entrepreneurial, I guess. That's why I started the security business. It's still small, but I'm building it. One day, I hope I can quit working for Hammond Cartage and do it full time. I guess I'm just a lone wolf when it comes to my work."
She smiled. "I understand that impulse—to work alone. To be in control of your own destiny. But for me, I just want to get right in there, on the trail of the killers. See if I can stop them."