Trace Evidence (The Heir Hunter Book 2)

by Diane Capri

  “My name is Michael Flint. I’m a private investigator.” Preston nodded but did not reply. “I’m looking for information about Marilyn Baker. I’m told you knew her.”

  “I knew Marilyn. She was a nice girl.” Preston nodded again. His eyes were dull. He didn’t smile or offer any encouragement. “I didn’t kill her.”

  “That’s what you’ve said,” Flint replied. “Her family is interested in finding her killer. They’re hoping you might know something that you didn’t share with investigators before.”

  “I thought Marilyn’s family were all deceased.” Preston shrugged. When Flint offered no response, Preston said, “Like what?”

  “This is a very cold case. At this point, I’m just looking for anything that might help.”

  “Do you believe I didn’t kill her?” Preston narrowed his eyes and stared at Flint. “Because if you’re trying to prove I killed her, I’m not interested in talking to you. I’ve got enough trouble already, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I’m not with law enforcement. It’s not my job to prove who killed her.” Flint paused and took a deep breath. “She had a son. Did you know that?”

  Preston shook his head. “I knew she had been in trouble, which is what we used to say back then when unmarried Catholic girls turned up pregnant.”

  Flint nodded. One good assumption confirmed. “How did you know that?”

  “She told me. She was very distraught. Her parents were quite strict. She was twenty-one years old and just out of college. She was teaching at the parish school. She was a devout Catholic.” He shook his head. “An abortion was out of the question.”

  “Was she seeking advice about the pregnancy from you, her priest?”

  “Mostly, she cried a lot. She was very conflicted about what to do.” He seemed to think about that for a moment. “As I said, her options were limited.”

  “What about the child’s father? What did he want?”

  “I asked her that. She said he couldn’t marry her.”

  “Why not?”

  “She wouldn’t say. My guess at the time? He was married.” Preston pushed his lips around under his bulbous nose. “I tried to console her as best I could, but as I say, it was mostly a lot of tears and incoherent babbling.”

  “She wasn’t pregnant when she died. What happened with the child?”

  “She went somewhere for the summer, while the school vacation took place. She was gone a few months. And then she came back. She wasn’t pregnant and she did not have a child with her. I never knew whether she delivered the child or aborted it.” Preston shook his head again. “She died a couple of years later.”

  “Were you still around when she got back to town?”

  “I was a visiting priest back in those days. I was moved around from one parish to another. I had been moved over to Paris for a year or so.” He shrugged. “When I came back to Mount Warren, she was working at the school and still living at home, single, no kids.”

  “Did you continue as her confessor?”

  Preston nodded. “She never mentioned a baby to me.”

  “Didn’t you ask her?”

  “Ask her? I was her priest, not her girlfriend.”

  “Seems like a natural question, though. You knew she was pregnant and you’re gone when the baby comes and then you return.” Flint narrowed his eyes. “Why wouldn’t you ask about her child?”

  Preston seemed to think about it for a while. Flint wasn’t sure if he was creating some kind of story in his head or simply couldn’t remember. He didn’t look healthy. Maybe he was mentally incompetent or something. He’d been in solitary confinement for the past fifteen years after a fight with a prison guard. Fifteen years alone in his cell with no one to talk to but the cockroaches. Men had gone insane in those situations before.

  Finally, Preston cleared his throat. “Marilyn and I were not friends. She was a teacher at the school and I was a priest in the church. From time to time, our paths would cross. Usually, she would look away. If she was embarrassed or simply shy, I don’t know. But she never confessed anything else of consequence to me.”

  “The church takes a dim view of abortion, even now.” Flint pressed on. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t want to know what she had done with her pregnancy.”

  “It wasn’t my place. It wasn’t my problem.” Preston shrugged and lowered his eyes. “I prayed for her, sure. I hoped she had done the right thing by her child. Since you said she had a son, sounds like she did.”

  Flint relaxed his tight grip on the receiver in his left hand. “Who was her boyfriend at the time?”

  Preston shook his head and closed his eyes as if he was trying to think about it. “It was a long time ago. Marilyn was an attractive girl and there were a lot of men who were interested in her. I remember those two hellions, Crane and Shaw, were always hanging around. A few others.” He opened his eyes. “But whether she dated any of them in particular, I just don’t know. That was not my world. I was focused on the church. I’m sorry I can’t help you any further.”

  “And you’re sure you were not the father of her child?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Will you voluntarily give me a DNA sample to test against her son’s DNA?”

  Preston shrugged. “Why not?”

  Flint’s contact had made the arrangements in advance. The door behind Preston opened and a guard stood over him and he swabbed his cheek.

  When the guard left, Preston said, “You can find my DNA results in the Marilyn Baker criminal file, you know. I gave them samples when they asked. I didn’t kill her. I didn’t kill June Pentwater either, but nobody seems to care about that. I’ll be executed this time, my lawyers say, so I have no reason to lie to you. I liked Marilyn. She wouldn’t want her son to think his father killed her. No boy should carry that kind of weight around.”

  Flint’s instincts finally seemed to kick in. Preston was telling the truth on both counts. He wasn’t the father of Marilyn Baker’s child and he didn’t kill her, either. Flint would run the tests and confirm, but he felt the truth in his gut and he was glad about it. Preston was right. No man should believe his father killed his mother. Even if he didn’t know either one of them.

  Flint glanced at his watch. Ten more minutes.

  “Even if you aren’t the father of her child, her son will want to know about her. You were her priest once. You might be one of the people who knew her best on this earth.” This was the last time he’d ever talk to James Preston, and he might never find anyone else to ask. “Tell me about Marilyn Baker.”

  Preston leaned back and closed his eyes. Thirty-three years was a long time ago. The world and his life had changed a great deal since then. He’d spent many hours in an empty cell with nothing to entertain him except his own mind. Flint figured much of his time was spent visualizing the life he’d lived outside this prison.

  “Marilyn was beautiful. She had entered a beauty contest in college. Made it all the way to the finals. She didn’t win, but she should have. Several young men in town dated her. She was wholesome and funny and kind. Her students loved her. The whole town was shocked when she died. I think her death destroyed her parents’ will to live, too. She was their only child. They were such lost souls without her. Her dad died a few months after Marilyn was killed, and her mother passed not long after that. She had no siblings. There may have been aunts and uncles and cousins. I’m not sure.” He opened his eyes. “I think Marilyn was the only person ever murdered in Mount Warren up until then. It was a very sad situation.”

  The guard rapped on the door and opened it. “Time to go.”

  Preston looked at Flint with the kind of sincerity only psychopaths can manage. “Tell Marilyn’s son I’m very sorry for his loss. May he find peace.”

  He hung up the phone receiver and left the cage. Flint returned his receiver to its cradle and watched him go.

  He collected the DNA kit before he left the building.

  The DNA would be tested and com
pared to his own, but Flint did not expect a match. He had a particular talent for identifying lies and liars. Preston said he was not the father of Marilyn Baker’s child and Flint believed him.

  Marilyn Baker might have been his mother, but Preston’s DNA sample wouldn’t confirm that.

  On the drive back to the airstrip, Flint reviewed Preston’s description of Marilyn Baker. Everything Preston said dovetailed with what he already knew. There were no glaring differences to suggest she was not his mother. The more he thought about her, the more he believed he’d found the right woman.

  If he was to have a mother, after all these years, he would be damned certain he’d found the right one. He would accept nothing less than a definitive answer.

  Preston said Marilyn had many suitors. Finding a sperm donor was much more difficult than finding a mother, but he could do it. He could find anyone, anytime, anywhere. When he wanted to.

  His personal phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. He could hear her crying even as he answered. “What’s wrong with my best girl today, Maddy?”

  Her cries turned to sobs, which broke his heart. She was always such a cheerful little imp.

  “Honey, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He frowned and tried a different approach. “Is your mom there?”

  “It’s too late.” She drew a ragged breath and pushed all the words out at once. “Jamie’s dying, Michael.”

  She tried to explain but her sobs overwhelmed her voice until she disconnected.

  Flint’s mother would have to wait. He dialed Veronica Beaumont as he pulled into the parking lot. Voice mail picked up. “Veronica, it’s Flint. We need to talk.”

  He tossed the keys on the front seat of the rental and hustled over to the Pilatus. Drake was already in the pilot’s seat. “Where to?”

  “Houston.” Flint pushed the number one button on his speed dial. She’d occupied that place on his phone for years. He never stopped to think about it. When Katie Scarlett answered, he said, “Meet me in your office in ninety minutes?”

  “Not a problem. I’m already here.” She paused. “Anything I can get started before you arrive?”

  Flint grinned. Scarlett was almost as good at investigation of missing heirs as he was. He’d promised Maddy not to tell her mother about the case, but he was a one-man show. He needed a team, and Scarlett had one of the best teams around.

  “I’ll send you what I have on a missing man. Presumed dead.”

  “But you think he’s what? Hiding in a cardboard box under the expressway?”

  Flint shook his head. Prickly, as always. Situation normal. Which relaxed his tension. “Not exactly, but something like that, I’m afraid.”

  “We’ll find out.” She paused. She sipped something. Coffee, probably. She mainlined the stuff almost around the clock. If the caffeine kept her awake at night, she never admitted as much. “See you when I see you.”

  He disconnected the call, opened his laptop, and sent her the files on Josh Hallman. He included a list of the men he’d met at the Wilcox house. She’d know what to do with them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Red Maple Lake, California

  Six Years Ago

  Josh ran through the woods toward the house. He tripped and fell twice. The thick foliage blacked out dawn’s weak light. He didn’t hear anyone chasing him, but his blood pounded in his ears like an angry Japanese drummer.

  By the time he reached the open green space, the morning sky had lightened enough to reveal the gravel driveway. Josh made no effort to approach the house with stealth. He dashed straight up the front steps, across the porch, and pushed through the front door. His pounding footsteps and ragged breathing would awaken everyone who might still be asleep, but he no longer cared. All he wanted was to find Dan and get away. And come back with the police.

  He ran down the hallway to his room. He noticed that the house seemed too quiet. Where was everyone? He felt like the frightened victim in the kind of horror movies he’d consumed like popcorn as a teen. But he was acutely aware that he was living through an actual nightmare.

  Josh reached his room, stormed inside, closed the door, locked it, and propped the straight chair under the doorknob for good measure.

  Through it all, Dan snored. The painkillers Kevin had given him before bed must have buried him deep into oblivion.

  “Dan. Wake up.” Josh shook Dan’s shoulder. Hard. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  Dan’s eyes fluttered open but he was not awake. He closed his eyes again and Josh shook him a second time. “Come on, Dan. Let’s go.”

  Dan’s eyes remained closed. He frowned and mumbled, “Is the helicopter ready?”

  At least he was semi-lucid. He remembered where they were and why they were here. Josh’s relief encouraged him to shake Dan again, but he didn’t move.

  Josh jerked the warm covers away.

  The cold morning air slapped Dan like an icy blow to his entire body. His eyes popped open. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “We have to go. Right now.” Josh reached out and grabbed Dan’s arm and yanked him to a seated position on the edge of the bed.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” He shook Josh’s grip away.

  “Get dressed.” Josh grabbed Dan’s grimy clothes off the chair and threw them at him.

  “What is your problem?” Dan was fully awake now. And angry. Good. He would need that adrenaline and the energy that came with it.

  As Dan shoved one leg into his pants and slid the left one in a little more gingerly because of his sprained ankle, he continued to scowl. Josh saw the wince, though, when Dan’s foot caught on his pant leg. The sprain was bad. They’d need to run through the woods like a three-legged race, with Dan leaning into him. They had no other options.

  Josh lowered his voice to keep the quivering under control. He looked steadily into Dan’s eyes, willing his friend to focus and process the insane situation.

  “What I’m going to tell you is shocking. I don’t have time to explain now. Just accept what I say. I’ll explain more later. Okay?”

  Dan’s frown deepened as he nodded. Josh wondered how much Dan could absorb, but he had no time to soften the blow. “Skip is dead. I don’t know what happened. He didn’t make it through the night.”

  Dan’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped. He shook his head and raised his hand to the cut on his scalp. Josh imagined that the hammering that must be going on inside his skull was overwhelming.

  “These guys are dangerous. We have to get away. If I help you, do you think you can run?” Dan’s eyes filled with confusion. He shook his head slowly. “Because I’m telling you, you’ve got no choice. If you stay here, they may kill you. Me, too.”

  “You’re crazy. They rescued us. We had dinner with these guys.” Dan frowned. He blinked. “We were talking about fishing and kids and college, for God’s sake. And Kevin is a doctor. Why would they kill us?” He didn’t believe the truth.

  Josh bowed his head briefly. He wanted to avoid mentioning what he’d seen in the woods until they were safely away from the house. But Dan might not leave unless he knew. And there was no way Josh could carry him. Not as far as they had to travel. Not over that rocky terrain out there.

  He lowered his voice, even though he thought they were alone in the house. “I saw something, Dan. Something bad. Something I wasn’t meant to see.” He paused. “I don’t think they’ll let me leave here, now that I know.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? What could you possibly have seen?” Dan was still sitting on the bed. He’d made no move to stand. “You know this is crazy, right?”

  He nodded. “I saw Mark. Covered in blood. Standing near a woman’s body.” He paused again and gulped. This was hard to believe. He couldn’t really blame Dan for doubting. “The woman. She was dismembered. He was burying her. In pieces. I don’t think he saw me, but I’m not sure. If he did, he’ll kill me. I know it, Dan, as well as I know anything.”


  Dan looked at him now, head cocked, mouth agape.

  “You can stay here if you want, but I have got to go.”

  “What about Skip?”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Josh grabbed Dan’s shoulder and shook him. “Skip is dead. He died last night.”

  “Dead? Are you sure? Because Kevin said—”

  “I don’t care what Kevin said! Don’t you get it? You could die here. I could die here.” Josh ran his splayed fingers through his hair. “Get up and come with me, Dan. Otherwise, I’m leaving and you’re on your own.”

  Dan wasn’t convinced. He had not seen what Josh saw in the woods. But he must have believed that Josh would actually leave him, so he stood on his good right leg with his left bent at the knee. “I can’t walk on this foot. You’ll have to help me.”

  Josh put his right arm under Dan’s left one and hugged his torso close. Dan threw his left arm over Josh’s shoulder. Josh walked and Dan hopped and they made it to the bedroom door. Progress was too slow, but he tried not to think about how easily they could be caught.

  He threw the door open and they proceeded in the same three-legged hop down the hallway and out the front exit. When they reached the driveway, Dan was already sweating and trembling, but they kept going.

  Josh glanced over his shoulder and saw no one coming after them. But morning had broken and dawn’s light flooded the driveway and the green space. They would easily be seen running away unless they traveled through the woods, where the going would be even slower, rougher.

  Speed was more important than stealth at the moment, but he was prepared to duck into the woods as soon as he heard or saw anyone coming after them.

  They came much sooner than he’d hoped.

  He heard the footsteps behind them before he was able to steer Dan off the driveway and into the shadows.

  He glanced back to see Kevin hurrying in their direction with Mark close behind him.