Lost Tomorrows

by Coyle, Matt;

  The right side of Krista’s face was scraped raw. Her beauty in life gone in death.

  The report by the Major Investigation Unit was thorough and contained the information Grimes relayed to me at the crime scene. It stated the facts as the detective writing it saw them. No gray area ripe for interpretation. No speculation as to why Krista was down on State Street at two fifteen on a Monday morning. There also was no mention of which direction she was walking when she was struck by the van. Just that the witness claimed he saw the van hit Krista head-on. According to Leah Landingham, Dustin Peck thought Krista was coming from her car, not returning to it, but there was no mention of that in the report. How had Leah come across that information?

  I leaned into Grimes after we’d both finished breakfast so the civilian sitting next to me couldn’t hear. “Leah told me that Dustin Peck thought Krista was walking away from her car. There’s no mention of that in the report.”

  “What?” Grimes grabbed the report from in front of me and skimmed through it.

  “Did she see a copy of the report or did she somehow talk to the witness?”

  “I gave her a copy, just like the one I gave you. Nobody said anything about which way Krista was going. Just her orientation to the vehicle.”

  “I know what the report says. I’m telling you what Leah told me last night.”

  “I don’t know where she got that. She must have misread something or let her imagination run wild.”

  “Let’s ask Peck about it.” I threw my eyebrows toward the other end of the bar.

  “I’ll question the witness, Cahill. You’re here strictly as an observer.”

  “Leah hired me to ask questions.”

  “She hired you as an extra set of eyes and ears and to follow my lead. Not as an extra mouth.”

  That wasn’t my interpretation, but I let Grimes play lead dog. If he didn’t ask Peck the question about which way Krista was going, I’d blurt it out. What was he going to do, fire me? His signature wasn’t on the check in my wallet. He didn’t have a badge anymore, either. He just acted like he did. Seven years after his retirement.

  I had a plan B of my own anyway.

  Grimes kept sipping coffee, and I had another orange juice much to the dismay of customers waiting to take our place at the bar. I kept my eyes on Dustin Peck at the other end of the bar until he looked our way. Which he did every couple minutes, and more frequently, as the clock wound down toward twelve thirty p.m. Grimes eyeballed him, too. I wondered if he had the same thought I did, that Peck was going to try to lose us after his shift. I kept that to myself. I considered Grimes about as much of a partner as he did me.

  I got off my stool at twelve twenty-five p.m.

  “Too much orange juice for me. Don’t know how you hold it.”

  “Mind over matter. You should try it some time.”

  “Right, coach. Don’t start the interview without me.”

  I headed toward the Men’s room and glanced at Peck as I rounded the bar. He avoided my eyes. Game on. I walked past the bathroom and made it out the front door of the restaurant. Grimes hadn’t seen me. I circled behind the restaurant and found an alley that led to the back door where deliveries were made. I stood behind the door across from a couple dumpsters and checked my phone. Eleven twenty-seven. The stench wafting off the dumpsters reminded me of my restaurant days taking out the trash. And rats. Big rats.

  A couple minutes later the door opened. Dustin Peck stepped outside with his back to me. He was wearing a backpack. Ready for home. Grimes was still in the restaurant practicing his mind over matter. I was outside practicing my own version.

  “Where you going, Dustin?”

  Peck jumped forward, then whipped around to face me.

  “Shit.” His eyes bigger than when Grimes talked to him in the bar. “Why’d you have to scare me like that?”

  “Grimes is the scary one. I’m the nice guy.” I gave him my version of a smile. “Where you going? You told the scary one you were going to stick around for some questions.”

  “I just had to throw something away.” He looked down at his hands, then pulled off his backpack and searched around in it. He finally came out with a scrap of paper and threw it in the dumpster. Peck lied easily. Something to keep in mind.

  “Lucky you found a container big enough to hold that piece of trash.”

  “Well, I …” He pulled the back door open, but I stopped it with my hand.

  “Let’s talk out here. It will only take a couple minutes.”

  “Okay.” But he didn’t look happy to extend our chat.

  “What direction was the woman walking when she was hit by the van?”

  “West in the crosswalk at Gutierrez where it crosses State.” Peck didn’t hesitate.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” Eyebrows and eyelids narrowed. He didn’t look away. “Why?”

  “It’s not in the police report.” I caught Grimes approaching us out of the corner of my eye. More mind over matter.

  “Well, that’s what I told the cops. Whatever they put in the report’s not my responsibility.”

  “Gentlemen.” Grimes planted himself between us, the folder with the police report snug under his left arm. “Were you skipping out on me, Dustin. I thought we had an agreement.”

  “I was just throwing something in the dumpster after my shift, and Mr. Cahill was out here so we started talking.”

  “Convenient.” Grimes turned and gave me cop stink eyes. He turned back to Peck. “Tell me what you saw the night of the accident from the time you left the restaurant.”

  Peck ran through the incident without going into much detail. His story matched the police report.

  “Which way was Krista walking when she was hit by the van?” I interrupted his monologue.

  Grimes gave me double stink. I didn’t care. Time for him to shut up and listen.

  “I already told you that.”

  “Tell Mr. Grimes.”

  “I’m not sure, but I think she was going west across Gutierrez.”

  “You were sure when you told me a couple minutes ago,” I said.

  Peck’s eyes pinballed between Grimes and me. Grimes made him nervous. I wondered if Detective Mitchell made him nervous, too, and he changed his story for him the night of the accident.

  “Well, if it’s not in the police report …”

  “What?” Grimes spun to face me and his face squished into a fist. “You told him what was in the report?”

  “I asked him about the discrepancy.” I put my hands out and patted the air. “The report is supposed to be a documentation of what he told the police. I’m just trying to find out if something is missing from it.”

  “That’s not a determination for you to make.”

  Peck pulled at the collar of his black Joe’s golf shirt and looked for a place to hide.

  I stepped in front of Grimes, faced Peck and commanded his eyes onto me.

  “Dustin, which is it? Was she going west on Gutierrez or not?”

  “That’s what it looked like. I was kind of far away, but that’s what I think I saw.”

  “Okay. Great.” Grimes put on the charming smile again. “What were you doing here so late?”

  “I’m the bar manager and I had to do inventory that night.”

  “Thanks, Dustin, if—”

  I cut Grimes off. “Don’t you do inventory at the end of the year?”

  That’s how we did it at Muldoon’s, the restaurant I managed before I became a PI.

  “I do the bar every month. The owners are real tight asses on pour costs.”

  “By yourself?” I asked.

  “Yep. I really have to go. Anything else?”

  “No. Thanks for your time.” The Grimes handshake and smile. He handed Peck his business card. “If anything else comes to mind, give me or Detective Mitchell a call.”

  I shook Peck’s hand, then we all walked out of the alley. Peck turned right on Cota Street, the opposite direction fr
om State Street. Something from the police report percolated in the back of my mind.

  “Headed to your car?” I asked over his shoulder.

  “Yeah. Parking is a bitch around here. I can usually find something a few blocks away.”

  He kept walking and I took a couple steps after him.

  “You park over there the night of the accident?”

  “Always. Gotta go.” Peck started jogging away. I let him go.

  “Don’t you ever pull that kind of shit on me again, Cahill.” Grimes, red-faced.

  “I played a hunch that he’d try to sneak away.” Mind over matter.

  “What was that last bit with Peck about?”

  “Not sure yet.” I grabbed the manila folder out from under his arm, flipped open the police report, and found the statement from Peck. He’d said he was on the sidewalk when he’d seen the accident. “Come on.”

  I hurried to the front of Joe’s Café, stood next to the front door, and looked down State Street in the direction where Krista Landingham had been struck down. My view of the intersection was blocked by trees on the sidewalk that hung over the street. I walked out to the curb. Still blocked. I took a couple steps into the street and finally got a clear view of where Krista died.

  I turned to Grimes to explain. He beat me to it.

  “Peck was either lying about what he saw or where he saw it.”

  I walked back to Joe’s and noticed the sign with the restaurant’s hours next to the door. It only stayed open until eleven p.m. on Sunday nights.

  “Or when he saw it.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LEAH LANDINGHAM LIVED on a winding street in the hills above downtown Santa Barbara. My recollection from our brief talks at cop barbecues years ago was that she worked for an interior design firm. Either the firm paid really well, she started her own business and was kicking ass, or she won the divorce battle.

  Her home had a lot of glass and was set back on a rise from the street with a view of downtown and the ocean beyond. Not Montecito, but worth well over a million. Leah greeted me at the door in blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and no shoes. Blond hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. A relaxing afternoon at home if not for the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes.

  Emotions still raw the day after burying her big sister.

  “Thanks for coming up here.” She opened the door wide for me to enter. “I don’t feel like facing the public today.”

  “No problem.” I’d called to meet her after Grimes and I split up at Joe’s. He went to SBPD headquarters.

  Leah led me into the living room with a cathedral ceiling held by sturdy wood beams. We sat down on one of two overstuffed sofas separated by a long hand-carved coffee table that held a plate of shortbread cookies and a cheese plater.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m good.”

  She looked down at the food on the table and sighed a laugh. “So many people brought food to my parents’ house that they sent me home with platefuls. Please help yourself.”

  The cookies and the cheeses looked delicious but I was here on business.

  “Thanks.” I turned to face Leah. “I hate to intrude during this horrible time, but I need to dig a little deeper into what you know about Krista’s death.”

  “Of course. I thought I already told you everything I knew, but please, ask me anything.”

  “How did you find out that the witness, Dustin Peck, claimed Krista was walking away from her car and not to it the night of the accident? It’s not in the police report.”

  “I know it’s not in the report.” She folded her arms across her chest and pushed slightly back into the couch. Away from me. “Kenny Baines told me when he knocked on my door at six a.m. that morning to tell me Krista had been killed.”

  According to the police report, Kenneth Baines was the first officer on the scene of the accident. Not the usual personnel who’d deliver a death notice. That would be the investigating detectives.

  “This was before a detective told you?”

  “Yes. Kenny’s a friend.”

  “And Dustin Peck told him that Krista was walking west across Gutierrez Street?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did he tell you anything else that didn’t end up in the report?”

  “No. That was the only thing. I didn’t even know it wasn’t in the report until Jim Grimes gave me a copy yesterday.”

  “Did you tell Grimes about it?”

  “No. He dropped it by here before the funeral. I read it after he left. Not the smartest thing to do before Krista’s funeral, but I needed to feel proactive.” Her eyes drifted in thought. “Anyway, I was going to pull Jim aside after the funeral and ask him about it. Then I saw you and changed my mind.”

  “How did seeing me change anything?”

  “I hired Jim because Krista always thought he was a good detective and I figured he’d be able to get more information from SBPD than someone who hadn’t worked for the department. And I was right. He got me the police report. But I was worried that he’d take SBPD’s word as gospel. When I saw you, I knew you wouldn’t take anything for granted.”

  “You had to know my history with Grimes. He was lead detective on Colleen’s case. The cop who arrested me.”

  “I apologize.” Leah blushed. “I should have told you it was him last night.”

  “Why did you think we could work together?”

  “I didn’t know whether you could or not.” She leaned forward and put her hand on mine. Again. It was warm. Again. “This is going to sound woo-woo and weird, but when I saw you at the service, I felt calm for the first time since Krista died and I knew you were there for a reason. To help find Krista’s killer. Crazy, I know.”

  “Not really. Sometimes we get feelings that we can’t explain. Déjà vu, premonitions, foreboding. I’m not smart enough to know what they mean or stupid enough to ignore them.” I’d felt a chill run through my whole body at 11:07 p.m. the night Colleen was murdered. The coroner put her death between ten p.m. and midnight, but no one will ever convince me it wasn’t exactly at 11:07 on the night of April 18th, 2005.

  “I know you agreed to just work today, but I’m hoping you can stay up here a bit longer. Obviously, I’ll pay you.” She picked up a purse off the floor below the arm of the sofa and took out a checkbook. “I can write you a check for five thousand. Is that enough to get you through the next few days? If you’d prefer not to work with Grimes, I’ll ask him to step aside.”

  “Make it twenty-five hundred. That will get me through Friday.” I needed the money, but I wasn’t going to gouge Leah. “Grimes can stay. We need his connection to the department.”

  “Did you learn anything new from the witness? Mr. Peck?” She handed me the check.

  “Yes and no.” I put the check in my wallet. “He corroborated what Officer Baines told you he said about Krista walking away from her car. At least he did to me. He was less sure when Grimes asked him. I think he realized we thought this was an important observation and got nervous. I don’t think he wants the responsibility of something meaningful hanging on his story.”

  “What do you mean by ‘his story’? That sounds made up.”

  “Well, he made something up. He couldn’t have seen the accident from where he claimed to be standing in the police report. His view would have been blocked by trees in front of the restaurant. It’s possible that he heard the accident as he was leaving the restaurant, then ran out into the street and saw the aftermath. Maybe he guessed which way Krista was walking and didn’t think it mattered until we started asking questions about it. Or he was in the middle of the street when he saw the accident and didn’t want to tell the police for some reason.”

  “What did he say when you asked him about it?”

  “I figured it out after we already talked to him. I’m going to question him again soon.”

  “Do you think he’s lying?” Leah stood up and crossed her arms across her chest.

  “
Maybe. Whether he is or isn’t, the accident reconstruction team probably got the logistics right.”

  “So, you’re starting to side with SBPD’s version of what happened?” She paced in front of the coffee table.

  I understood her agitation. If Krista’s death was the result of a random, drunken hit and run then it had no meaning. It was just bad luck. The wrong place at the wrong time. How could the death of the sister she looked up to her whole life be an avoidable accident? Krista’s life was too big to end on a cruel twist of luck. It would be so much more fitting if she died because of some grand conspiracy hatched due to her dogged determination as a cop. There had to be a greater meaning.

  Sometimes death has no meaning. Life is what matters.

  “I’m not siding with anyone yet. I’m searching for the truth.” One last time. “I need to talk to Officer Baines.”

  “He’s coming by here tonight after work.” Leah stopped pacing. “He gets off at nine. Why don’t you drop by around nine thirty?”

  “I don’t want to interrupt.” Just friends don’t come over after work in the middle of the night. Boyfriends do. “If you can give me his phone number, that will be fine.”

  “You won’t be interrupting anything.” She smiled. No joy in it. “He’s just a friend. He used to be my ex’s partner and became more my friend after the divorce. He’s been checking up on me since Krista’s death.”

  Sometimes beautiful women, the kind that don’t spend a lot of time in front of mirrors, don’t realize the effect they have on men. Tonight, it would be to my benefit. Officer Baines might feel more comfortable talking to me with Leah in the room. Could be easier to cut through the SBPD inbred distrust and hatred toward me.

  “One other thing. Did Krista ever talk to you about work? Cases she was working on or overseeing?”

  “Very rarely. Sometimes she’d give me a broad outline if I asked.”

  “Did she tell you what she was working on before she died?”

  “No. The last time we talked was at her birthday party here last Saturday night, and she didn’t talk to me about work.”