“Down, Curtis! Get rid of that mile wide smile. The deputies and sheriff aren’t going to like that happy look plastered on your face. We need to go in sympathetic and offer our assistance. You can be happy and overly exuberant in the privacy of our own rented cabin.” Agent Croft liked his partner. The man was young, enthusiastic, and easy to work with, but boy, was he green.
“Okay. I can do that,” he replied enthusiastically. “What can I do to help us get ready?”
Croft shook his head in exasperation. “Pull all the files, pack up two tablets for us to work on, and make sure you get a good night’s sleep.”
The man hopped up to start his task list.
The senior agent watched the young agent rush off and he smiled. The man was in his early twenties and needed a little bit of seasoning yet. He still looked like a child with his curly brown hair and dopey grin, but he had the potential of being a great asset to the FBI one day.
Croft stared down at the paper sitting on his desk. “Okay, Sheriff Starling. I hope you’re ready for this. We have our work cut out for us. Life as you know it is about to change.”
* * *
As Emma pulled up to the little house on the lane, she noticed the mourning process was already in full swing. All the lights in the comfortable saltbox were on, and she could see an occasional shadow pass the windows. There were eight cars out front; most likely relatives who arrived to help the family cope, and friends who had thought to bring food to feed the empty void of loss.
Emma stood there for a minute wondering what it would feel like to have that kind of support and comfort in a time of pain, instead of loneliness and solitude. God, this wasn’t something she looked forward to or enjoyed doing in the least, but it needed to be done. It was her job as sheriff, and as much as she’d like to shirk her duties, it simply wasn’t a possibility.
As she approached the door, she could hear the sobs from inside. Doing the job, Emma shoved down her own fears as the need to offer comfort took over. She’d been in their position before and understood. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and waited. When it opened, Emma was expecting sorrow and someone weepy to be standing there, but to her surprise, she faced an angry, well-dressed man in a suit and tie. Emma didn’t recognize him as one of the residents of the town.
He spoke seconds before she could introduce herself, “Hello, Sheriff, we were expecting you,” stated the man from the entranceway.
Emma wondered where he fit into the equation. Everything about him screamed professional outsider. Yet, in his deep blue eyes, there were the telltale signs of grief.
Friend?
Lover?
Family member?
She chided herself for her suspicious nature.
As Emma was offered admittance, she was faced with a room full of hopeful faces. They were looking at her for guidance and comfort at the same time.
Damn she hated this part of the job.
Emma scanned the room until the older couple sitting on the couch drew her focus. She assumed that these were the deceased woman’s parents – Megan Landry’s next of kin.
The mother was a plump, platinum blonde haired woman with rosy cheeks and small wrinkles surrounding the corners of her clouded eyes. She looked like everyone’s mother would once they hit their fifties. Mrs. Landry was wearing jeans and a coral button down shirt that revealed a cross made out of hammered gold. Emma was sure her faith was being tested at that moment, and unlike hers, she prayed it held up.
“Mr. and Mrs. Landry?” Emma inquired, softly. She turned her focus to Mr. Landry. He was the polar opposite of his wife. He was well over six feet tall and thin and wiry. He wore jeans and a tee shirt that said something about ‘going fishing’. His hair was white and starting to thin at the brow. The sorrow that she saw in their faces spoke volumes as to what was taking root in their hearts. They both look like they had been broken.
No, that wasn’t even close. They were shattered and never to be repaired again.
She understood. Emma had been there herself repeatedly.
“Yes, that’s us,” replied the older man.
“I’m Sheriff Starling, sir, and I’m here because I need to talk to you and your wife for a moment.” Emma proceeded to look around the room and take it all in. There were pictures everywhere of the now deceased woman. They only contained the smiling face of one woman. Emma’s heart hurt for them once she figured it out. The victim had been an only child.
Mrs. Landry stared up with a tear stained face. “Were you the one who found our Megan, Sheriff?” She wiped her eyes on tissue in her hand before blowing her nose. “They wouldn’t let me see my baby. Was it bad?”
Just the look in her eyes made Emma’s heartache for them. How could she answer that, informing them she had to watch the pieces of their daughter being placed in a body bag? How did she begin to get past the smell of the blood and essence of life that seeped out into the grass surrounding what was left of their daughter? No one should know the facts of a loved one’s death. Not when it was that gruesome.
“Yes, ma’am, I was the one,” she answered, ignoring the last part of the question. She refused to answer it. “I just want to tell you and Mr. Landry, I’m sorry for your loss.” Emma said, hoping they’d eventually heal.
Deep inside, there was the silent prayer that they’d stop asking questions that she couldn’t bear to answer. Doctor Brooks would have to clean and patch her up as best as he could for them, when the time came to see her.
The hair being chopped off had to be upsetting enough, let alone seeing what had been done to her face and below the neck. Emma shuddered and covered it with a quick motion. There was no way to put Megan Landry back together again and make her look presentable.
No mortician wielded that kind of magic.
“Will you find the bastard who did this to Megan?” inquired the man who had opened the door for Emma.
Before she could say answer, Mrs. Landry burst into a new wave of tears. Emma could see hate burning in his eyes. For a second it startled her as it seemed to be directed at her. She refocused her attention on him, trying to gauge his relationship to the victim.
“Yes, I’m certainly going to try. I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.” Emma let it hang in the air waiting for a response.
“I’m Michael Parks. I’m a friend,” he said, pausing to correcting himself, “I mean…I was Megan’s friend.”
Emma made a mental note of his name. She’d add it to her list of people to interview later.
“Are you going to make this SOB suffer for what he did to her?” he snapped, angrily. “Because someone has to pay for what was done!”
His fists were clenched at his sides so tightly that Emma could see his knuckles had gone white. Then as quickly as the fire started, he regained control and the flames were extinguished.
Whether he knew it or not, many people had already paid a steep price for what happened. Looking around, the evidence was there as proof. The Landrys would carry this as a scar on their heart. Her own deputies, who found themselves retching in the field at the lost life, and even her own soul, would carry that name and memory of Megan Landry.
Yeah, many people were already paying the steep price, whether Michael Parks realized it or not.
Now, it was about stopping the killer and keeping it from happening again in her town.
Emma prepped herself for the safe answer, “We at the sheriff’s department are doing everything that we can to bring this individual to justice,” she stated, calmly. “We are covering all angles, and that’s why I had to bother you folks tonight. I know the last thing you feel like doing right now is talking to me about the events that happened before her death, but it’s very important. I need to know some details about Megan, in hopes that it will give me some clues as to what went on last night in ‘The Crossing’.”
The fury from the man was evident, even before he spoke.
“He has to be caught!” Michael Parks raged.
Emma knew it was the anger speaking. If, at the moment, they were rational, they would realize she and her deputies were trying their best.
“Some animal killed our baby, Sheriff. That’s what went on in that clearing last night,” answered Mr. Landry. “I don’t know what else we can tell you.”
The bitterness was expected. Often, she’d been on the receiving end of the anger. After a while, you simply adjusted to it and let it go. Families of victims lashed out at whoever was closest in their time of pain.
“Yes, sir, I understand, but I still need to ask the questions, even if the answers seem obvious to you.”
Mr. Landry placed his hand on his wife’s shaking shoulder in attempt to draw some pain away and replace it with support. He couldn’t believe his little girl was gone. How would they survive and get through this?
“Can anyone tell me what time Megan left the house yesterday?” asked Emma, looking around the room at the different sorrow filled faces.
“She got a text on her cell phone around nine in the evening. All she said was that she was running out to meet someone and not to wait up for her.” Mrs. Landry sniffed. “I didn’t ask her any questions about it. My daughter was a grown woman and came and went as she saw fit. I didn’t think to ask.”
The mother’s guilt was clearly present in her voice. Right now, there were so many ‘could haves’ and ‘should haves’, but none would have changed the outcome of fate.
“Had Megan complained recently about anyone bothering or following her?” questioned Emma. “Anything she might have felt was suspicious or concerned her?”
Everyone glanced around at the possibility that something bad could happen in Celestia.
Emma’s green eyes moved from person to person, observing every action, no matter how small. She was only sheriff for a little over a year, but she knew a few faces in the scattered crowd. When no one answered her question, she thought to rephrase it.
“Did she recently break up with a boyfriend or significant other?” asked Emma, trying something more obvious.
Again, eyes shifted around the room and some focused on Emma, unsure of the answer, and the rest on Michael Parks. Yet, there was still no confirmation. Emma made some notes on her phone.
“Mrs. Landry, you mentioned your daughter received a text, and then went out, but did she walk right out the door or change her clothing first?” asked Emma.
“This is ridiculous! What does it matter if she changed before she went out? Shouldn’t you be out looking for a killer and not asking these stupid questions?” stated Michael Parks matter-of-factly.
His temper was resurfacing and that caught Emma’s attention. “Mr. Parks, it’ll help those of us that have to retrace her steps through the night to find out what exactly occurred. In order to find out what transpired, I need all the details, no matter how insignificant it may sound to you,” Emma added.
“She changed,” Megan Landry’s mother finally replied. “Before she went out, she put on different clothing.”
“Thank you,” Sheriff Starling responded softly. Emma continued with her questioning, directing it towards ownership of a cell phone. Pretty much everyone in this day and age had one. If Megan didn’t that would be odd.
“It was silver,” answered her father. “And it was covered with rhinestones.”
She took down the number with the plan of contacting the carrier for a list of incoming calls. That was going to have to be handed off to the feds. Getting that information was way out of her jurisdiction, even during a murder investigation.
Emma thought back to the crime scene and was pretty damn sure there wasn’t a phone recovered there. Overall, she learned very little about the woman. Everyone there was getting edgy, and it was time to back away and let them grieve. This was as far as she was going to get tonight. The family had been through enough, and it was time to say goodnight and get back to the work.
“Please find the person that hurt her,” pleaded Mrs. Landry.
“I plan on it,” she answered, bidding the Landry’s goodnight. At the door, Emma was inundated by the oppressive grief, crushing down on her. She had to get out of there and away from the victim’s family. It was getting incredibly hard to breathe. God, she hoped this wasn’t the onset of panic attacks. It was the last thing that Emma needed on top of all this too.
As she was walking out to her Jeep, there were footsteps behind her and she turned, unsure what to expect.
When Emma saw him, she wasn’t really surprised.
“Mr. Parks, what can I do for you?” Emma inquired, staring directly into his blue turmoil filled eyes. They were the windows into the soul, and Emma was very curious as to what lived in this man. From the minute he opened the door, he caught her attention--and not in a good way. Again, the fire seemed to have gone out once more, and the rational man had returned.
“When can we get her body for burial?” Staring at this woman, he had his doubts regarding her ability to find the killer. “Sheriff we want to bury her as soon as possible. This terrible tragedy is a nightmare for all of us.”
That was something she knew all about. They haunted every sleep-filled moment of her night, and were now beginning to chase her while awake.
“You can pick up Megan’s body once she’s released. It’s out of my hands right now, Mr. Parks. You can check with the Doctor’s office, Sam Brooks is the acting coroner, but I need to tell you the FBI is arriving tomorrow, and they’ll still have input on the release too.”
Her answer seemed to make Michael Parks tense.
“The FBI is getting involved? Why?” he asked, suspiciously. “I heard in town that you’re in over your head and need help.”
It was a slap of anger, and she knew it.
“Are they your back up?” he accused, maliciously.
Emma ignored the hostility.
“Well, Mr. Parks, I can tell you this. When a town turns up a body, and they don’t have the equipment of a big city police department to handle it, it would be pretty arrogant on their behalves to assume they could pull it off,” she stated, crossing her arms across her chest. With cool cop eyes, Emma watched him as she leaned back against the fender. “I may be many things, but I’m not arrogant. I’ll ask for help if I need it, so believe whatever rumors you wish.”
Parks was getting even angrier. “Megan is more than a body to us, Sheriff. I sincerely hope you’ll have everyone working hard on this and not all sitting down at Macy’s diner eating donuts.” The tone in his voice was more than condescending it was downright bitter, angry and mixed with a hint of intimidation.
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Parks?” she asked, staring him in the eyes.
“No, Sheriff,” he bit off before storming away. “I’m promising you.”
Emma watched him leave. At the door, he turned back to stare at her. Unlocking her vehicle, she never let her gaze wander from his. She’d faced down scarier criminals on the streets, and they’d never been able to shake her. The man was simply upset and mourning and Emma decided to let it go. “Goodnight Mr. Parks. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.” As she got in the car, Emma was pretty sure that friendship wasn’t the only thing between Michael Parks and Megan Landry. The man had boyfriend and lover written all over him.
Whether he knew it or not, Mr. Parks just became the first suspect on Emma’s list.
Something simply wasn’t sitting right with Emma as she drove back towards the sheriff’s station. There was this little nagging detail poking her in the back of her brain, trying to get her attention. In the silence of her vehicle, she began going over what she knew about the last moments of Megan Landry’s life.
The victim’s mother stated that the victim changed before heading out for the night. In her head, she ran her own scenarios and what she’d do personally.
What if a friend called?
Would she have changed?
No, probably not.
Many times, she’d met up with her deputies for beers, and she went dressed in w
hatever she was wearing at the time.
What if it was a man who she was dating?
Emma had to think way back on that one. It had been a while since any man had caught her interest.
Yeah, she would have changed, put on perfume and lacy girl things.
Megan had gotten up and changed into a frilly shirt and a skirt. It was obvious that she was dressing for a late evening rendezvous.
The other thing that was bugging her was the missing cell phone. Emma was almost positive they never recovered one. Mentally, she thought back to the evidence log.
Yeah, there was no phone. Where could it be? Something inside Emma made her turn off at the access to ‘The Crossing’. Did they miss it or was it just not there in the first place?
There was no point in going home. Emma knew she wouldn’t sleep until she got the answer to that question. Her mind would keep pushing her towards a resolution.
As she pulled up to where the car had been abandoned, she noticed lights entering the road behind her. Her stomach gave a nervous little tug as she reached into her shoulder harness and unlatched the gun. Her heart pounded in her chest as her eyes never left the stopping vehicle.
Who would be coming out to the scene of a murder at night?
When she was finally able to get a closer look, Emma laughed, realizing it was Deputy Marshall. All the fear and tension drained away as she let out a sigh of relief.
This was one of those moments that she wanted to slap herself silly for allowing her imagination to take over and run rampant.
“Shit, Sheriff! I was wondering who was coming down here after dark. I thought that maybe it was some kids looking to scare their dates,” he stated, looking around nervously.
Emma laughed at how they were both a bit edgy. It was good to know that she wasn’t the only one who was getting worked up over nothing.
“Holy shit, Tommy! I think you just stole ten years off my life coming down this road after me!”
Deputy Tom Marshall was a handsome young man with expressive brown eyes and wide strong shoulders. He was the type of guy the girls chased to flirt with to gain his attention. Emma had to admit that she had been tempted herself a few times, simply because she was female and there were slim prospects in Celestia.
Celestia is Falling (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 1) Page 4