Dylan cleared his throat. “I’d better get on the road.”
Wesley watched until Dylan’s car disappeared from sight, and then he walked back to his desk. All eyes turned toward him. “Dylan just lost his dad to a heart attack. He’s going to let us know about the arrangements.” Wesley glanced at the detective who had covered for him. “Looks like I’ll need you to cover for me again during the funeral.”
Sitting at his desk, Wesley stared at the stack of new folders, but his mind was on Dylan. One thing was certain: none of the cases could be as gruesome as Lorraine’s, or he’d have heard about it before now. He opened the first folder and scanned the file. It involved a domestic dispute that had turned deadly. The wife had stabbed her husband numerous times, and her teenage children had witnessed the murder.
The second case involved a young man found shot in his car in an area known for drug trafficking. Wesley reread the reports numerous times but found it impossible to concentrate on the crimes. Dylan and Chief Powell dominated his thoughts. He really hoped Chief Powell’s death didn’t involve foul play, and if it did, he wondered what Dylan would do about it.
Wesley closed the files. He couldn’t concentrate on new material. It was best to wrap up Lorraine’s case before plunging into another. He had learned that starting with a clean slate was the best way to proceed. He picked up the phone and called Mr. Jenkins, thanked him for his cooperation, and explained why his testimony wouldn’t be needed. Tucking the two new files under his arm, he headed for his unmarked unit. Maybe he would give them another look later in the evening. Visiting Myrtle wouldn’t be a problem, but breaking the news to Susan about Dylan’s dad wasn’t going to be easy.
On his way out of the station, a long-time deputy who had just finished a night shift met him at the door. “Can I have a word with you?”
They walked back to Wesley’s desk.
He handed Wesley a clear plastic bag that contained a bracelet. “A hunter found this in the woods where he hunts and turned it over to me last night. It’s gold. However long it’s been out there, the elements haven’t had any effect on it. When I saw the initials, I immediately thought about you. Maybe it’s tied to your cold case, the one about the missing girl. After all this time, I doubt the lab will find any trace evidence or fingerprints, except for the hunter who handled it, but you never know.”
Wesley wondered if the officer could hear his heart thumping. He couldn’t believe it. Turning the bracelet toward the light, he read the initials, “E.N.” After all this time, he finally had another piece to the puzzle. “What’s the hunter’s name and number? I’d like to see exactly where he found the bracelet.”
The deputy pulled a small pad from his pocket and tore off a page. “Here you go. Hope it helps.”
Wesley put the new case files back on the desk and pulled out another folder from his bottom drawer. The file was labeled Edith Nelson, Missing Person. The worn jacket showed coffee stains and numerous smudges of pencil mark from hours of handling the file. Wesley opened the folder and removed a colored photo of the subject, her senior picture. Light brown hair curled softly about her face, and big brown eyes gave her the look of innocence. Her upturned nose had a smattering of freckles and thin lips curled into a smile. He read again for the hundredth time her physical stats—five foot five and a hundred and ten pounds.
Edith was the only child of Myrna and Ronald Nelson. He had come to know the Nelsons personally. Looking back over the case, it seemed only yesterday he had interviewed the distraught parents—Myrna with her red, swollen eyes and Ronald, his head buried in his hands. Wesley had promised Myrna that he would find her daughter. Dead or alive, that was one promise he intended to keep. He made a color copy of the photo and returned the original to the file.
Flipping through the pages, he found a list of the missing girl’s clothing, jewelry, and other items she’d had in her possession. The hunter’s find confirmed one item—a gold bracelet with the initials E.N. Had Edith lost the bracelet while struggling to escape or had she managed to drop it on purpose? Were there other clues out there? He made a note of Edith’s other jewelry: a pair of tiny maple leaf earrings and a dainty necklace with a Coptic cross, all made of gold.
He annotated the file to reflect the recovery of the bracelet then took the paper the deputy had given him containing the name and phone numbers of the hunter and copied them into his own note pad. Once again, he tucked the new case files under his arm and slipped the photo of Edith and the bag containing the bracelet into his pocket. Myrtle would have to wait awhile longer. He drove across town to the lab, where he filled out the proper paperwork. Chances were slim the lab would find anything, but he had to follow procedure. “How long before you get any results?” he asked the technician.
“We’re swamped. Best I can do is two days for fingerprints or blood evidence. You’re looking at least six weeks for DNA results should I find anything.”
Wesley groaned. “Well, can you at least shoot me a picture of the bracelet?”
“That I can do.”
A few minutes later, the technician handed him a digital photograph of the bracelet, clearly showing the initials.
“Thanks. Call me when you’ve finished your preliminary exam.”
Back in his unit, he sat staring at Edith’s photo, and his mind raced back to the night of the abduction. When her purse was found in a roadside ditch with her blood on it, they’d expected to find a body, but despite an extensive search and numerous interviews, the investigators found nothing, and the case went cold. He’d asked permission to look into the case. Those in charge of the investigation had welcomed his input. Ever since then, he had never stopped looking for any clues.
He slipped the photo into his pocket and pulled out his notepad. Time to call the hunter. A man answered on the first ring. “Mr. Daniels, I’m Detective Wesley Grissom.”
“I’ve been expecting your call.”
“I’d like to talk with you about the bracelet, especially where you found it.”
“Sure, but I just got back into the woods and settled into one of my favorite spots. Can you give me a couple of hours?”
“How about we meet at the Burger Shack, the one about three miles past the turnoff to the marina. Say about noon?”
“That’ll work. I’ll meet you then.”
Wesley checked his watch. He should still have time to visit with the Nelsons and stop by Myrtle’s before telling Susan about Chief Powell.
Wesley eased his Crown Victoria to a stop in front of the Nelsons’ house on Sycamore Drive. Like most of the houses in this middle-class neighborhood, the Nelsons’ home was built sometime in the sixties. It was a one-story structure with a front porch and a side carport. Azalea bushes lined the front behind the sidewalk, and camellia bushes were in flower beds next to the house. Following a few warm days, dollar weed and clover had sprouted its ugly head. Overall the lawn was neat and edged, reflecting the pride the owners took in their property.
A chocolate Lab lay stretched out on the front porch. The dog raised his head and wagged his tail but didn’t bother to get up and greet him. Wesley rang the doorbell and waited.
“I’ll get it, Momma,” a male voice called from inside the house. Ronald Nelson opened the door. He stared at Wesley for a while before he spoke. “You’re not coming to bring me more bad news, are you?”
“No, sir, may I come in?”
Edith’s father stepped aside.
“Who is it, honey?” Myrna Nelson asked as she walked into the living room. Eyeing Wesley, she stopped and pressed her hand to her chest.
“It’s okay, dear, Mr. Grissom said he didn’t come to bring bad news.” Ronald directed his attention to Wesley. “So why are you here?”
“Let’s sit in the living room,” Myrna said.
Wesley took a seat in an overstuffed chair across from the Nelsons, who sat together on the sofa.
“Like you, there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think about your daughter. I
made a promise to you, Mrs. Nelson, that I wouldn’t give up on this case, and I won’t. As long as I have a breath in me, I’ll work to solve her disappearance.” He pulled the photograph of the bracelet from his pocket. “Can you identify this?”
Myrna took the picture. She traced the bracelet with her finger, and her eyes filled with tears. “It’s Edith’s. We gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday.”
“Yes, that’s hers, all right,” Ronald said. “Where did you find it?”
Wesley told them about the hunter. “We never searched that particular area, as it was too far away from the site of the abduction, but I’m going to do just that. I’m not giving up on her, and you shouldn’t, either. There’s always the chance she’s still alive and held captive. I’m determined to keep thinking that until evidence proves otherwise.”
“I want to go with you,” Ronald said.
“I understand how you feel, but it’s best you leave that to me. I’ll get someone with fresh eyes to assist me, and we’ll make a thorough search. Whether we find anything or not, I’ll let you know.” Wesley stood up to leave.
“Thank you,” Myrna said.
Wesley nodded and took his leave. The dog raised his head to bid him farewell, but this time didn’t even bother to wag his tail.
After leaving the Nelson’s, Wesley drove to the Burger Shack. He was early, so he waited outside for the hunter to arrive. He was easy to recognize. The man arrived in a four-by-four Dodge truck with an ATV in the bed. Both the four-wheeler and the truck looked as if they had been driven through an avalanche of mud.
The hunter climbed out of the cab, and Wesley’s first impression was that he’d hate to meet up with this guy in a dark alley. The man stood about six foot four and packed a solid two hundred and thirty-five pounds. With a thick head of curly red hair and a bushy beard, he reminded Wesley of a mountain man. The hunter’s blue plaid shirt was dirty and torn, and his boots were caked with what the locals called gumbo mud. But his warm smile melted away the bad boy image.
“You must be Detective Grissom,” he said as he strode across the parking lot and reached out his hand. “I’m Kevin Daniels. Mind if we don’t go in? I’m not exactly dressed.” He gave a hearty laugh.
“Here’s fine,” Wesley said.
Kevin scratched his head. “Don’t know what I can tell you that I didn’t tell the other deputy.”
“I’m interested in where you found the bracelet. Any chance you could take me to the location?”
“Now? You want that nice suit of yours to look like me?”
“It’s nothing the cleaners can’t fix.”
“Okay, give me a minute to pull around the side, and I’ll unload the four-wheeler. Actually, it’s not too far from here. I know a shortcut through the woods.”
Wesley sat behind Kevin and used his GPS to track their route. Twenty minutes later, after a splattering of mud and a beating by some thorny bushes, they arrived at the location.
“Where exactly did you find the bracelet?” Wesley asked.
Kevin pointed to a patch of briars. “Hanging right there, four or five inches from the ground.”
Wesley figured the bracelet had lain undetected, covered by leaves and decaying matter at the base of the briars. Then, as the briars grew, they lifted the bracelet from the ground. He made a note that the bracelet hung from thorns on the side of the briar that faced him. That would suggest the girl and her abductor had probably been heading in the direction away from him. He took a picture of the briars then made a cursory search of the immediate area, not finding anything of significance. He looked around at the dense undergrowth and knew a difficult job was in his future.
Kevin crossed his arms over his chest and followed Wesley’s gaze around the woods. “I remember hearing about that girl. Not much chance of finding her alive now, is there?”
Wesley took a deep breath. “You never know, Kevin. You just never know. I can’t thank you enough for doing the right thing and turning in the bracelet. Some people might have been tempted to keep it.”
“No, sir, I wasn’t raised that way.”
“One more thing—I’m going to need you to keep this to yourself. If the girl is still alive, and her abductor thinks we’ve picked up his trail, well…”
“I understand. You can count on me.”
Wesley tagged the bush with a piece of yellow tape. “Thanks. I guess we’d better head back.”
By the time they arrived back at the Burger Shack, the lunch crowd had thinned, and the parking lot was fairly empty. Wesley waited while Kevin loaded his four-wheeler.
“You don’t look too bad,” Kevin said, climbing down from the bed of the truck. “Not like me.” He brushed his pants, which did absolutely no good. It would take washing in hot water with lots of detergent to get his clothes anywhere close to clean.
“Say, Kevin, you don’t happen to have a map of these woods, do you?”
“Yeah, but it’s real special to me, got my best hunting areas marked. I wouldn’t want anyone else to see it.”
“What else does your map show?”
“I’ve marked all the camps I’ve come across and the boggy areas I need to avoid.”
“It sure would be a big help to my investigation if I could make a copy. I promise not to show it to anyone, except maybe my partner.” Wesley thought about Dylan and wished he were still here. They were a good fit.
“Give me a minute.” Kevin moved a few things around on the backseat and pulled out a rolled map. “You can get a good copy at a blueprint shop. Don’t forget. This is between you and me.”
Walking up to Myrtle’s front door, all the events in Lorraine’s case flashed through Wesley’s mind. He hoped his news about Randy would help bring closure for Myrtle. When she greeted him, he saw the same empty look in her eyes that he’d seen in the Nelsons’. It was as though all the warmth had been sucked from her body.
“Come in, Wesley. I’ve been expecting to hear from you.”
“How are you, Myrtle?”
“Better each day. Let’s sit in the parlor, and you can tell me what you’ve found.”
Myrtle’s living room, which she always referred to as her parlor, was a step back in time to the turn of the century—lots of mahogany furniture, what-not shelves, a tapestry fire screen, and marble-top end tables. A large breakfront gleamed with china, crystal, and silver.
“Well, Lorraine’s case is finally closed. We’re just waiting for DNA to confirm the murderer.”
“Who is he? Where is he?”
“His name was Randy Harper.”
“Was?”
“Mr. Harper’s dead of an apparent suicide.” Wesley went on to explain the circumstances.
“I’m glad the man is dead. It doesn’t bring back Lorraine, but at least he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. My advice is not to dwell on what could have been; just be grateful for the time you had with her. Remembering the good times will make it easier. You have lots of friends in this community—reach out to them.”
“I will in time.”
“I also want to thank you again for giving me the photos. I know that caused you more heartache, but it was the right thing to do.”
“I suppose, but I can’t help but feel sorry for Zelda.”
Wesley nodded. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
“You’ve done everything you promised. Now it’s up to me to get on with my life.”
When he stood to leave, the normally standoffish woman gave him a big hug.
“Thanks, I needed that,” Wesley said. “You know I’m here for you.”
Wesley walked to his car. He wasn’t looking forward to his next stop—the Bawdy Boutique.
Chapter 14
Monday morning started early for Susan. She was eager to get back into the routine of things—do a quick inventory and see what the sales were like while she was gone. The feel and look of her outfit pleased her. She had chosen one of the newest
spring styles from the boutique, nowhere close to the skimpy pirate costume she had worn the past few days. This morning, she wore a magenta shift made from a blend of rayon and cotton and three-inch heels in the same color. A long black onyx necklace and matching earrings topped off her ensemble.
As she unlocked the front door to the boutique, several cars pulled into the parking lot. Melanie, Debbie and Sheila all hurried out of their cars and rushed toward her.
Debbie was first to greet her. “I missed you,” she said, giving Susan a bone-crushing hug. “We want to hear all about the weekend.”
The other employees joined in welcoming her back, but thankfully they refrained from mauling her.
“I missed y’all, too. Next year I might turn the festival over to some of you. I’m sure you could handle it.”
“Me,” Debbie shouted. “Please!”
When the others began clamoring for a spot, Susan held up her hands. “Hold on there. Looks like we’re going to have to draw lots.”
“What was it like?” Melanie asked.
“I’ll tell you all about it over coffee.”
“I’ll make it,” Sheila said when they gathered in the office. Soon, the rich aroma of Community Coffee filled the room. Everyone grabbed a cup and gathered round Susan’s desk. Susan’s newest employees, Nadine and Isabel, arrived.
“Welcome back, boss,” Nadine said. “Are we too late for coffee?”
“You’re just in time,” Sheila said. “Susan is about to tell us all about the festival.”
Susan described the hotel, the decorations, and the free rooms. “Working the kiosk was a snap. It was more like play than work. And every night they put on a major production involving ships battling one another. They had a terrific band that played till the wee hours to a packed ballroom.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” Debbie said.
“That was the good part of the festival. Now for the not-so-good.” Susan told them about her near abduction, Randy’s death, and finding the van covered in graffiti. She also told them about Dylan’s dad having a heart attack.
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