Shallow Waters

by Kay Jennings

  “Mr. Abbott’s right,” Matt said. “We appreciate what you did here this morning, but I have to start this investigation with the person who found the body. That’s how we begin to rule out suspects. Please don’t take it personally, ma’am, it’s just part of our process.” He spoke calmly and professionally, and then paused to let her catch her breath before continuing his questioning.

  “How did you find her, Mrs. Campbell?”

  Lydia pulled a tissue from her jacket pocket and quickly wiped her nose. “It was actually Mr. Darcy who discovered her. He was pulling quite hard on his leash in this direction, and I finally gave in and followed his lead. I didn’t see her at first because of the tunnel. But Mr. Darcy knew she was in there, and he was aware that something was amiss.”

  At the sound of his name, Mr. Darcy looked from the seagull he’d been tracking and up at his owner. To Matt, who noticed the dog’s movement, it looked like the border collie wanted to ask a question.

  “Did you see anyone else on the beach this morning?”

  “No, just Mr. Darcy and me. We like to go right at daybreak, and that’s a little early for some people. Especially on a Saturday morning. People like to sleep in. Eat breakfast out. Read the newspaper. That sort of thing.” Lydia realized she was rambling, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  “Please don’t take offense, Mrs. Campbell, but I need to see your hands. Could you please slip off your gloves?”

  She stared at the chief with a pursed mouth and a direct gaze, and, for a minute, Matt thought of that old countess on Downton Abbey.

  “You cannot be serious.” She sounded just like Maggie Smith, with a touch of John McEnroe thrown in.

  “I would be derelict in my duty, ma’am, if I didn’t investigate the person who discovered the body. It’s routine. I’m sorry.”

  Bill Abbott, watching Lydia, held his breath for a moment before letting out a quiet puff of air, and almost imperceptibly shaking his head.

  Lydia held Matt’s eyes and glared at him while she removed her gloves in brisk, almost violent fashion. “Please hold onto Mr. Darcy’s leash,” she directed Jay, thrusting the leash in his direction.

  Jay did as he was told.

  Lydia stuck the gloves in her mouth. Then, she thrust both hands out at Matt, spread her fingers wide, held them still for a few seconds, and then crisply flipped them over and repeated the movement.

  No marks of any kind or any blood, and, in fact, Lydia Campbell had an attractive manicure that looked fresh.

  “Thank you.” Matt pulled out his notebook to jot some notes in it, and Jay meekly handed the dog’s leash back to its owner.

  Lydia put her gloves back on, stared straight ahead, and stood stock still while Matt scribbled away.

  Suddenly, Bill Abbott’s cell phone rang loudly from his jacket pocket, and everyone jumped. Looking at the phone’s surface, the blood rushed out of his face, and Abbott said to Matt, “It’s Fred Bushnell. What do I do?”

  Alarm and utter consternation were written all over Bill Abbott’s face.

  Matt said quickly, “If he says his daughter is missing, please tell him I’m here, and hand the phone to me. Got it?”

  Twitching, Abbott nodded, and then answered his phone. After a brief exchange which indicated that the family just discovered their daughter was missing, he handed the phone to Matt.

  “Mr. Bushnell, this is Matt Horning. I just landed in Port Stirling. Please tell me what’s happened.”

  Matt’s penetrating blue eyes followed two squawking seagulls in flight out to sea as he held the phone up to his ear and listened to the mayor. The sky, heavily laden with luxuriously-thick fast-moving clouds, was more robust here than in Dallas.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Please stay calm, and I’ll be over to your house soon. Stay out of your daughter’s bedroom, don’t touch anything near it, and keep all your family at home until I get there. No one is to leave the house. Do you understand? OK, thanks. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  Jay and Matt locked eyes.

  “Has the medical examiner been called?” Matt asked.

  As Jay nodded affirmatively and started to answer the chief, Matt saw a woman waving from the bottom of the steps that he and Abbott had come down. She was a determined-looking 50-ish woman, and she was moving toward them with purpose, head down against the wind and the rain that was just beginning again. She tugged on the hood of her rust-colored raincoat, pulling it forward to keep the rain off her black-framed glasses.

  Dr. Bernice Ryder went straight to Lydia, one of her private practice patients; there weren’t enough dead bodies around Chinook County to keep Dr. Ryder busy on the ME side of things. She had been filled in by Pete Leonard, Port Stirling’s 911 operator, and understood Lydia had found the girl’s body.

  “Oh, Lydia, I’m so sorry this happened to you,” the woman said, hugging her. “Are you feeling OK?”

  “For the umpteenth time,” Lydia said, glancing at the two policemen, “I’m fine.” But with that pronouncement, Lydia’s knees buckled and she started to collapse. Matt, closest to her, swiftly reached out and cradled the fainting woman before she could hit the sand.

  He and Dr. Ryder, working together, revived their witness. Jay, with a subtle glance at his new boss, who quietly indicated his approval, and Bill Abbott—along with, of course, Mr. Darcy, who was whimpering loudly and tagging along immediately next to Lydia, not letting her out of his sight—walked Lydia gingerly up the steps to her house. She would be of more use to them once she’d had a cup of strong tea, and a brief sit down.

  * * *

  After the three humans and one dog took off, Dr. Ryder and Matt examined Emily’s body. They had introduced themselves to each other.

  “Without the benefit of an autopsy, I would say she died of multiple stab wounds to the abdomen with hemoperitoneum—that’s blood in the cavity,” Dr. Ryder said, as she hunched over the body. “With all this blood, it looks like probable hemorrhagic shock. She would have died quickly,” she pointed out. “Once I can perform an autopsy, I’ll have a good idea of the time of death, and should be able to tell you something about the murder weapon. It’s been fairly recent, I would guess, not more than 10-15 hours. It doesn’t look like she’s been sexually assaulted because she’s fully dressed, but I won’t know that for sure until I can examine her.”

  Dr. Ryder stopped talking and leaned in closer to Emily’s body, careful to not let her clothing touch anything. She lifted a strand of the girl’s dripping wet hair, and pulled it outward away from her neck. She leaned in even closer, peering at Emily’s neck.

  “What?” asked Matt.

  “There are bite marks on her neck and on her left arm. See here where her sweater has a tear?” She pointed to a spot just below Emily’s left shoulder. “They are human bite marks, I believe,” said Dr. Ryder. “I’ll want to call in our DMD to confirm, but the impressions are pretty deep. Someone bit her repeatedly, and they were serious about it.”

  Chapter 3

  Saturday, 9:10 a.m.

  Dr. Ryder stood up and she and Matt stared at each other for a few moments over Emily’s body. “This is a bad one,” Bernice said, peeling off her latex gloves and breaking the silence. “How would you describe your karma, Chief? You’ve been here how long? We don’t get many murders around here.”

  “I’m a nice guy, but, for some reason, my karma stinks lately,”

  he said grimly. “Maybe my fortunes would improve if you just call me ‘Matt’.”

  “Sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean to be a wise-ass. My way of dealing with horrific violence and stress is to be amusing. It doesn’t always work. Like now.”

  Matt gave her a warm smile. “I’ve seen a lot of smart-asses in my career, and, believe me, doc, you don’t qualify. Tell me, does my new hometown have a forensics team and an ambulance that can pick up this poor little thing’s bod
y?”

  Port Stirling did not have forensics or an ambulance on site. The transport would arrive from Twisty River, the county seat, about thirty minutes away. Forensics would come with the ambulance to gather the physical evidence from the scene.

  “Do they know to make it snappy because of the incoming tide?” asked Matt.

  “Yeah. They’re locals. My guy said ‘Pedal to the metal—we left five minutes ago’. We’ll take Emily to the morgue at Buck Bay Hospital and I’ll perform the autopsy there,” Dr. Ryder said. She watched Matt look anxiously back and forth between Emily’s body and Lydia’s house. “Go on up if you need to. We can’t afford to waste time. I won’t let anything happen to her.” She reached out and touched Matt’s arm.

  “Thank you, Bernice. I need to get to the family, but I’ll be in touch with you later today.”

  “No problem. Good luck to you. Get this asshole, OK?”

  “We will, I promise. And Texans always keep their promises.”

  “I’d say as of today, you’re an Oregonian,” Bernice said, turning back toward the tunnel and waving good-bye over her head.

  Protocol made Matt hesitant to leave the scene without a uniformed officer on guard, but Bernice was right, and no one could truly protect that little girl any longer. They were a small team facing a big case, and every minute mattered.

  As Matt began to climb the weather-beaten stairs up the steep, rugged bluffs, it dawned on him that the ambulance couldn’t access the beach, and Emily’s body would have to be carried up on a gurney by the paramedics. This was, indeed, a new world for him after Texas. Would he ever fit in?

  He met Jay, who was heading back down. Matt motioned for him to turn around and join him instead.

  “Can I assume there is a crime team that we should bring in today?”

  “Yes, sir, Chinook County has a team for big cases like this one. I didn’t call all of them,” Jay said, “but I did reach Ed Sonders. He’s the Oregon State Police liaison for our area. He’s on the way, but he was at the far end of the county when I talked to him. And, Pete, on the 911 desk, contacted Fern Byrne. She’s one of the county’s crime victim advocates. She lives in Port Stirling, and is waiting at City Hall until we need her.”

  “Fern Byrne?” asked Matt.

  “Yep,” Jay replied, his mouth turning up in a slight smile for the first time this morning, but quickly losing it. “And we should call Dr. Ryder’s boss.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “David Dalrymple, Chinook County District Attorney,” Jay answered. He leaned closer to Matt and lowered his voice before speaking again, not that there was anyone within earshot to hear them. “He doesn’t like being left out of the loop. If you make the mistake of forgetting him once, he’ll never forget that as long as you’re in Port Stirling. You know the type?”

  Matt did know the type. All too well.

  “OK,” Matt said as they finally reached the top step. “Please give Dalrymple and the others a shout and tell them what we’ve got here. Tell them we’ll meet at Port Stirling City Hall this afternoon at 4:00 p.m., and they should notify anyone else on the team what’s going on, but they should also keep a lid on the news. This is on a need-to-know basis only, and I do not want Emily’s murder to leak out. Do not! Please make that clear. I’ll tell Bill we’re going to talk to the family first.”

  “I have the Bushnell’s address,” Jay said.

  “Whether or not the family is involved in this child’s murder,” Matt continued, “this is going to be rough. I’d like your—our—victims’ advocate to accompany us to the Bushnell home when we break the news. Is she a hand-holding type?”

  “I think Fern is who you want for this. I’ve worked with her previously, and she’s great at putting people at ease. She’s never worked a murder either, though.”

  “I just need someone who can help us keep everyone calm. She doesn’t have to solve the damn crime,” Matt said, scowling at the universe in general.

  “Fern can do that,” Jay said to his boss. “Who else is going to the mayor’s house with you, sir?”

  “You are, of course. And quit calling me ‘sir’. What’s this state cop, Sonders, like? Could he help us interrogate the family?”

  “Ed Sonders is my idol, a cool guy,” Jay said. “He’s also big. About my height, but with an extra 40 pounds of muscle. If we have any trouble with the family, he’ll be the perfect guy. Ed’s been around the block more than once.”

  “Sounds like the ideal sidekick. Will he be here soon?”

  “Yes, I should think he’s getting close. I’ll call him again.”

  “The mayor knows you, right?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean ‘yes’.”

  “Does Sonders know the family, too?”

  “I think so, yeah. Ed’s in Port Stirling fairly frequently, and he and the mayor have been in several meetings with us. I don’t think they’re friends or anything, but he’ll be another familiar face. Fern knows the family, too.”

  “Sold,” said Matt. “Call them both please, and give them the Bushnell residence address. Tell them to meet us there at 10:00 a.m., but not to go in until we arrive. I’ll grab my luggage, and get the keys to my rental from Abbott, and then you can drive me there…I think it’s close to here. I’d like to change into a jacket and tie before we call on the family. My uniform won’t be issued until Tuesday, but I can at least look respectful.” Not like the cowboy I look like now.

  Matt started toward the house to fill in Abbott while Jay made the calls. Remembering Bernice on the beach, he gave Jay one more direction. “Can you get another one of our officers down here to guard the scene after Dr. Ryder and forensics take off with the ambulance?” Matt nodded to a couple in workout gear jogging toward the beach stairs at a good clip.

  “Oh, crap!” said Jay, following his boss’s stare.

  Matt moved aggressively toward the couple as they neared. “I’m with the police, and this is a crime scene. You’ll need to clear the area immediately, please.”

  His forceful voice and authoritative manner had the couple nodding in unison. After a quick glance down at the crime scene tape on the beach, and a jointly mumbled “Sorry”, they turned and made a hasty retreat.

  Jay arranged for one of his colleagues, the other on-duty patrol officer, to get to the scene quickly, and stand guard. “He’s only five minutes away. I told him to hurry because word will get out fast.”

  “Yep, we need to get this party started and beat tracks to the family,” Matt said. His heart skipped a beat as Matt thought about confronting another father. Maybe this time it will turn out better than the last.

  * * *

  Saturday, 9:35 a.m.

  Before he’d left Port Stirling last month after his interview with Abbott, Matt had secured a small rental house on Ocean Bend Road from a list of available properties that Abbott’s assistant, Mary Lou, had given him.

  Although not the color he would have chosen, the buttercup-yellow cottage suited Matt. Between the two-bedroom house at the end of a short gravel lane, and the cliff-top fence was a quirky garden plot with four raised beds. It looked pretty ratty right now, but underneath the January rot, Matt could tell it had been tended in previous seasons. A lone, stumpy tree in one corner of the garden was bent back fiercely toward the cottage from many years of succumbing to the wind blowing hard off the ocean.

  His new home was simple but cozy. It certainly didn’t compare to the sprawling Texas ranch he’d grown up on, and that until one day ago he still shared with Beverly and Ross Horning, his parents. Matt’s brother and sister, also in their 40’s, still lived at the family compound too, and each sibling had their own separate wing. Sometimes days would pass without Matt laying eyes on any of his family. His new digs would fit entirely in the great room of just his wing of the family’s ranch.

  Matt paused just long enough to run his
hand over the floor-to-ceiling river-rock fireplace at the heart of his new home. The big smooth rocks were now cold to his touch. That would change. The first thing Matt would do when he had the opportunity to settle in would be to build a big honkin’ fire to ward off the damp winter chill that had seeped into the nooks and crannies of the empty house. The small cottage represented a clean break with his past, and that’s all he needed currently.

  A swift glance up the beach out the large picture windows that framed the Pacific brought Matt up short when he realized the tallest rock in the stack peeking up held Emily’s tunnel. He hesitated for a moment, as the self-doubt he’d been dealing with the past couple of months crept back in. What if I’m not good enough to catch this killer? What if my acceptance of this job puts the town at greater risk? What if whoever murdered Emily is smarter than me, and I’m putting my own life in danger in this strange new place? I sacrificed my comfort zone of family and birthplace to prove myself; what if I fail?

  No time to gaze out the windows or be paralyzed by fear right now. Moving into his bedroom, Matt threw his luggage down on the end of the bed, this time ignoring another ocean-front view. He pulled out a suit, white shirt, and tie. Putting on the navy wool Brooks Brothers jacket, he was—not for the first time—grateful for the southern-belle taste of his former wife, Susie Longworth. This suit had been a gift from her when she still thought she could turn him into something he wasn’t.

  He transferred his wallet and police notebook from his leather jacket to the suit’s inside pocket, and, with a wistful look at the yawning fireplace opening, hurried back outside. When he rented the house last month, Matt could tell just by looking that his Yukon Denali wouldn’t fit in the attached garage of the mid-50’s structure, so it got left behind in Texas. He would buy a new car in Port Stirling, but that would have to wait until he put whoever killed that little girl behind bars.

  * * *