When the Tiger Kills: A Cimarron/Melbourne Thriller: Book One

by Vanessa Prelatte

  “Marina was born on the ranch. I thought that she was the most beautiful creature that I'd ever seen. She was Mom's baby, but I was her big sister, so in a way, she was my baby too...”

  Dawn paused for a minute to take another sip of tea, then continued, “On the day that it happened... my dad and I went out hunting. It was wild turkey season. I didn't particularly like to hunt, but I enjoyed spending time with my father, so I went along whenever possible. He didn't take us with him when he was hunting big game, but he always took Josiah and me along with him when he went turkey hunting. But that day, Josiah didn't come with us. He was eleven, and he was always getting into some kind of trouble. He was grounded for some reason – I don't remember why - and part of the punishment was that he didn't get to go hunting with us. So Dad and I set off alone...”

  She closed her eyes for a minute, conjuring up in her mind a picture of the way it had been, that last time they had been together as a family. Her mother holding Marina, clad in the pink sundress and white sweater she and Mom had made together for the baby. Josiah sitting at the table, eating breakfast nonchalantly, pretending that he didn't care that they were going hunting without him. Dad standing next to her, doing a last minute check to see that he had everything that they needed for the day. And she herself, a skinny twelve-year-old, dancing with impatience, wanting only to be gone...

  She gave herself a mental shake, opened her eyes, and went on with her story: “We didn't have much luck that day. And then my father tripped over a rock that was buried in the ground under some leaves and sprained his ankle. So we started back home. Dad kept his hand on my shoulder and used the shotgun he was carrying as a sort of crutch, and we'd almost made it back when we heard a lot of noise coming from the vicinity of the house. It was just over the next hill, and when we got to the top, we saw them, the boys on the motorcycles. Mom was down there in the meadow beside the house, with Marina in her arms. The boys on the motorcycles had surrounded them, and kept circling them, swerving right toward her, forcing her back toward the edge at the end of the meadow. There's a sharp drop-off in that spot. It's not that far down, maybe twenty feet, but it's sheer and steep.”

  She took another breath and prepared to force herself to go on. At some point, Ty's hand had found hers again, and he was gripping it tightly.

  “I'm not exactly sure of the sequence of the next events. It all happened so fast. Josiah burst out of the house with a can of pepper spray. He ran over and tried to get them with it, but they were too fast for him. One of them dodged him and got behind him, swatting the can out of his hands and knocking him flat. Meanwhile, Dad had brought his shotgun up. He couldn't fire it at them, because they were too close together. He might have hit Mom or the baby or Josiah, who'd recovered quickly and was already back up on his feet again. So he fired a warning shot in the air. That distracted the one who'd knocked Josiah down, and he stopped for a moment to look in our direction.”

  She picked up her teacup again and took a sip, scowling for a minute as she realized that the tea had gone cold. Maeve picked up another cup, poured out some fresh tea from the pot, and silently handed it to Dawn, who took it and sipped at it gratefully. After a minute or two, she took up the story again.

  “Josiah took after my dad, so he was big and strong for his age. He launched himself into the one who had stopped and knocked him off the motorcycle. They were rolling around on the ground together. Then he – the other guy – managed to get on top of Josiah, and I saw him raise his hand straight up in the air for a minute. He had a knife...”

  Her hand was shaking in Ty's now. He said softly, “Dawn, you don't have to go on. Don't force yourself to.”

  Dawn shook her head. “I need to,” she said simply. Taking another cleansing breath, she picked up where she had left off. “Dad was racing down the hill as quickly as he could on his injured ankle, and I started to follow him. When he realized that I was behind him, he turned around and shouted, 'No, Dawn! Run! Hide!' So I turned around and ran back up the hill and into the woods. I never saw any of my family alive again.”

  She rose shakily to her feet. “Excuse me for a minute. I need to use the ladies' room.” As Maeve rose to go with her, Dawn shook her head, so Maeve sank back into her seat. She turned to Tyrell. “If she doesn't come back in a few minutes, I'll go check on her. She just needs a little time alone now.”

  “Okay. Should I do anything? What can I do?”

  “Tell us the rest of the story. It'll save her from telling it when she comes back.”

  Ty got out of his chair and prowled around restlessly as he took up the tale. “Her memory isn't very clear about what happened next. She remembers hiding in the woods, but she's not sure how long she was there. The police found motorcycle tracks all over the place, and she remembers hearing the sounds of engines, so apparently they tried to find her, get rid of the only witness. But after a while, she remembers only silence. She was afraid to move, but she finally got up the courage to leave her hiding place and go for help. She knew where the nearest ranger station was, and she made her way there. Pete Nevo was on duty, and he called the police. Both Nick and Rafe Melbourne came in, and Rafe got some of the story out of her – enough to send them over to check out the Cimarron ranch.”

  He ceased his prowling and sat down again heavily. “They found her father and Josiah lying in the meadow, dead. They were both riddled with knife wounds. Her father had apparently used the butt of the shotgun as a club, because the police found blood on it that didn't match any member of the Cimarron family. Her mother was found lying in a stream that ran along the foot of the drop-off. She didn't drown, though. She'd broken her neck in the fall. But there was no sign of Marina. They searched for her for days, but the only thing they ever found was the white sweater she had been wearing that day. It was pretty torn up, and when the police tested it, they found traces of saliva on it. Not human, though. The saliva came from a bear.”

  Tears trickled from Maeve’s eyes as she said, “So all this time she was afraid that...?”

  Ty nodded. “Yeah. She still has nightmares about it.”

  “How old was she at the time?”

  “Which one? Dawn, or the baby?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “Dawn was twelve. Marina was about two and a half at the time.”

  “What happened next?”

  “They asked Dawn who her closest relative was, and she gave them Mattie's name. Mattie filed for custody immediately. She and Dawn's mother were step-sisters, not actual blood sisters, you know. However, they were really close, and since Dawn's parents had specified Mattie as the guardian of their minor children in the event of their deaths, the court had no problem awarding custody of Dawn to her. Pete stopped in to check on Dawn periodically, and that's how he and Mattie met. After they got married, they bought a small house in the same neighborhood where Nick and Rafe Melbourne lived. The five of them bonded over the years and formed their own sort of family. Then, after Peter retired, he and Mattie moved out to the ranch. Dawn didn't want to sell it, and she needed someone on the premises to take care of it.”

  “The police caught them, didn't they? The ones who killed Dawn's family?”

  “Yes, and that's a whole other story...”

  He broke off as Dawn came back into the room.

  *****

  Miranda Gordena walked slowly down the street. Since the police from Colorado had visited her, she'd been trying to get out more, get some exercise. But she was badly out of shape. She stopped for a minute at the corner only a block away from home, trying to get her breath. Looking around, she caught sight of the Makella place and sighed, remembering how beautiful its gardens had once looked. Elena Makella must be turning in her grave, she thought. When Elena had been alive, the house had been pristine, the yard a showplace. After her death, her husband and her older son had not wanted to keep up with the gardens, so the flowers had been torn out and the entire yard reseeded with grass. Her younger son, Vaughn, had begged h
is father not to do it. But he had been only ten years old at the time, and his pleas to maintain the gardens the way his mother had left them had fallen upon deaf ears. She could still hear Justin Makella explaining to his son that he would have to hire a gardener to keep up with everything, and he couldn't afford that. And maybe he couldn't have – not then. Later on, though, the family's financial picture had changed dramatically, when Justin had struck it rich by marketing some cutting-edge computer program that he had invented. How tragic that he and Briden, Vaughn's older brother, had had so little time to enjoy their new-found fortune. It was only a couple of years later that they had both lost their lives in some sort of accident while they were on a hunting trip. She had thought for a while that Vaughn might use some of his inheritance to plant the gardens once again, but it had never happened. Vaughn just wasn't there often enough nowadays for it to matter, she guessed. She'd seen him only a few times over the last few years, and then only during the summertime. He apparently avoided the cold Vermont winters and spent them elsewhere. And who could blame him? With another sigh, Miranda started walking again, progressing steadily toward home.

  Vaughn Makella – she thought. He'd always had such a crush on Alissa.... Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks again. A question that Detective Cimarron had asked about her daughter came back to her: Any of the guys in her life have an artistic bent?

  Miranda picked up her pace. By the time she reached her front door, she was practically running. Rooting in a drawer, she found the card Detective Cimarron had left with her where she had tossed it. Grabbing her phone, she began to punch the numbers in.

  When Miranda Gordena's name popped up on her Caller-ID shortly after she had rejoined Ty and her in-laws in the dining room, Dawn answered the call automatically. She listened intently to what Miranda had to say. She then told Miranda that she needed to notify her partner, who would call her right back.

  After she disconnected, Ty asked, “Something to do with the investigation?”

  “It was Miranda Gordena, the mother of another suspected victim. She gave me a lead. A name.”

  Sloan, who had been silent all this time, asked, “What can we do to help?”

  Dawn pondered only for a second or two before replying, “I’ll be violating all sorts of rules by revealing the details of an ongoing investigation to you, but I don't care about that right now. Marina – Lee's time is running out. I can feel it in my bones. We need more information, and we need it fast.”

  “Give me the name. I'll get you the information.”

  Dawn considered her options for a moment, then said slowly, “Vaughn Makella. He grew up in Black Line, Vermont.”

  Sloan noted the name down and nodded. “I'll have a detailed report for you as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks. In the meantime, I have to go back across the street, notify Rafe. I promised Mrs. Gordena that I'd have him call her right back.”

  As soon as he caught sight of them, Rafe cut across the bullpen to meet them.

  “How you holding up, D.C.?" he asked.

  “As well as can be expected. You need to call Miranda Gordena. She remembered something, and it might be important.”

  Rafe wasted no time, but punched the number in on his desk phone as soon as Dawn gave it to him.

  “Mrs. Gordena? This is Sergeant Melbourne.”

  “Thank you for calling me, Sergeant. I started to tell Detective Cimarron, but she said I needed to talk to you. About Vaughn Makella.”

  “You think he might have had something to do with Alissa's disappearance?”

  “I'm not sure, but after I got to thinking about everything you and Detective Cimarron said, I remembered...”

  “Just start at the beginning, Mrs. Gordena. Tell me about Vaughn Makella.”

  “He was a neighbor of ours. Still is, technically, but I haven't seen much of him in years. He and his family lived right down the street from us. His parents were Justin and Elena Makella.”

  “Were?”

  “Yes. Elena died many years ago. Vaughn would have been about ten. Brain aneurysm. So young, too. I thought that Vaughn was going to die from grief. He and Elena were so close...”

  “Why do you think Vaughn may be connected to what happened to Alissa?”

  “Well, for one thing, you asked if any of Alissa's boyfriends were artists. Vaughn was never one of Alissa's boyfriends, but he had a terrible crush on her, and he was quite a good artist. He used to ask her to sit for him sometimes. You know, as a model. I still have some of the sketches and paintings he did of her. He did fine work.”

  “You said that the fact that he was an artist was one reason that made you decide to call. Were there other reasons?”

  “Well, I never knew all the details, but when he was about sixteen, Vaughn apparently had some sort of nervous breakdown. He was actually hospitalized for over a year. However, when he returned home, he seemed back to normal again. I wouldn't even have given it a thought if you hadn't mentioned the artist angle.”

  “You said you hadn't seen him around much in recent years. He doesn't still live down the street?”

  “Not exactly. You see, he inherited the house when his father and brother died, but he doesn't come around very often. He can live anywhere he wants, though. His father, Justin Makella, was quite well off. In his will, Justin left everything to be divided equally between his two sons. But since Briden, the brother, died in the same accident as their father did, Vaughn inherited everything. And that's the thing, Sergeant Melbourne. That's another reason I decided to call. Justin and Briden disappeared while they were on a camping trip. Their bodies weren't found for several months. They were found at the foot of a cliff, just like Alissa's boyfriend, Breckon Petteril.”

  Rafe wrote the name down on a slip of paper and handed it to Noritaki, who immediately sat down at a computer to do a search on Vaughn Makella. Then he asked, “Mrs. Gordena, do you know where Vaughn Makella is right now?”

  “No. I understand that he travels a great deal. I don't know where, but he has an aunt, Lauretta Hurnel. She might know.”

  “Can you give me his aunt's full name, address, and telephone number?”

  “Yes, but it may not do you much good. He visits her every once in a while, but he doesn't keep in any kind of regular touch. It worries Lauretta, because she never knows exactly where he is or how to reach him.”

  “Not even on his cell phone?”

  “He doesn't have a permanent one – just the throwaway kind. He uses one for a little while, then he gets rid of it and buys another one. He never tells anyone the number, either. He's a little paranoid about cell phones and computers.” She paused for a minute. “In fact, Vaughn's a little paranoid about a lot of things.”

  Rafe's cell phone signaled an incoming text just then. Holding his desk phone with one hand, he pulled out his cell with the other. It was from Kara, one of the secretaries he was friendly with upstairs, and contained only five words: He's on the way down!

  Rafe swore under his breath and held the cell phone up so that Dawn could see the message.

  Dawn nodded and mouthed, “I'll be across the street.” Then she and Ty turned and departed.

  Good thing, too, as the door burst open shortly afterward and the Minotaur, Captain Wesley Collander, strode in with his usual self-important strut. He didn't deign to speak to Rafe or even look at him, but crossed over directly to the lieutenant's office, slamming the door behind him. Moe looked up as he strode in, leaned forward, and placed both hands on her desk.

  “You need to take Melbourne off the case.”

  Moe leaned back in her chair and looked him steadily in the eye. “What case are you talking about, Captain?”

  “You know damned well what case I'm talking about. The missing girl, the one who may be Marina Cimarron.”

  News had traveled fast, Moe thought. “Why would I take Sergeant Melbourne off as primary on the case?”

  “Don't play dumb with me, Westbrooke. He's got a personal invo
lvement in the case.”

  “I don't see it that way. The only person who has a personal involvement in this case is Detective Cimarron, who very properly removed herself from the investigation as soon as she realized that the missing girl might be a family member.”

  “Melbourne and Cimarron are close. Too close. He's like a member of her family. His objectivity is compromised.”

  “I disagree.”

  “I don't care if you disagree! I'm telling you to take Melbourne off the case!”

  Moe stood up slowly and looked Collander directly in the eye. “This is my department, Captain. If you disagree with how I am running it, you are free to make a complaint by using the proper channels. For now, however,” she moved around the desk and opened the door, “I have complete confidence in Sergeant Melbourne and in how he is handling this case.”

  Collander's face was so red that Moe thought he might be going to have a stroke. He stormed out of her office, saying over his shoulder, “You haven't heard the last of this, Westbrooke.”

  *****

  As Ethan Bardner sat in Ada Mainyre's living room sipping tea, he realized that he had struck the mother lode of information on Vaughn Makella. Less an hour ago, he'd been sitting in his office working on another case when his boss at Vespasian Investigations in Burlington had walked in and told him to drop everything else, jump into his car, and get to the nearby town of Black Line immediately. Once he got there, he was to squeeze out of its inhabitants as much information as possible about one Vaughn Makella. Time was of the essence, and expense was no object. The client was willing to pay a fat bonus on top of the regular fee for the information, but he wanted it in a hurry.