by Vakey, Jenn
“Well then,” Detective Byman said when she finished. “Where do we start?”
“We were talking about it last night,” Ben stepped in, “and we were considering the possibility that Mifflin might have brought the body of the first victim here to bury her. Her body wasn’t found with Christopher’s, and it could explain why Mifflin was here just prior to killing him.”
“Makes sense in a way,” Byman said. “In a small town like ours, there would be less chance of a body being discovered. The distance from the original scene would only help that. We haven’t had a homicide here in almost thirty years.”
“Mifflin transferred trace from a Rocky Mountain Maple and Penland beardtongue to Christopher when he buried him. We know that there are very few places where Penland beardtongue grows naturally, so we thought those would be a good place to start looking.”
Byman nodded along as she spoke. “I’ll call the state police and see if we can get some cadaver dogs out immediately to begin searching. In the meantime, I assume that you had some ideas about where to start searching for Mifflin?”
“We thought we might start with the local bars,” Rilynne said. “He also has the scar on his cheek-” she motioned to the pictures, “-and if he was concerned about being recognized, he might have looked into plastic surgery. Is there a cosmetic surgeon in Brooks Hollow?”
He smirked. “Two, actually. They’re also the town physicians, coroners, and veterinarians-out of a different office, of course. They have a clinic two blocks down. I’ll call and set up an appointment for us to meet with them. As for bars, we have four in town. They’re all small-no more than one or two bartenders-so it’ll be relatively easy to find out if anyone remembers him. I’m pretty sure they’re all the same ones that were working during the time you believe your fugitive came through.”
“That would be great,” Rilynne said, grateful for his willingness to assist them.
“I can take you around tomorrow to speak with anyone you need to. For now, I’m going to get the dogs out to search for your missing body,” Byman said.
“Sounds good,” Rilynne answered. “Here’s my contact information if anything turns up.” She handed him a card, which he glanced at before sliding it into his wallet. “We’re also staying at the bed and breakfast if you can’t reach me on my cell.”
“I’ll call you if we find anything,” he said as he rose from his seat. “Why don’t you come back in the morning and we can work out a game plan.”
Rilynne eyed Nick amusedly as they walked back out onto the street. He watched them carefully, and seemed almost disappointed that they were leaving so soon.
“Where to now?” Ben asked as they walked back to the car.
Rilynne stopped when she reached it, leaning against the closed door to think. “The hotel on the edge of town,” she said a few moments later. “I checked with our bed and breakfast when I checked in to see if he had stayed there while in town, but she had no record of him. Let’s see if he stayed there.”
He nodded in agreement and climbed into the car.
To her dismay, the hotel staff was everything but helpful. It took close to twenty minutes and a call to Detective Byman before they would even agree to search their records. After all of that, it turned out that every room had been booked for back-to-back weddings, and the entire hotel was closed to the public for nearly two weeks. Unfortunately, the time frame Rilynne expected Mifflin to be in town fell directly in the middle of that window.
Frustrated-more with their lack of assistance than the failure to find Mifflin-Rilynne suggested they park the car back at the bed and breakfast and explore the town on foot. To her, there was almost nothing more relaxing than walking around.
Several of the stores they came across surprised Rilynne, like an extreme sports shop with a large surfboard in the window. Others, like the four antique stores they passed, were not surprising at all. Everyone smiled at them as they passed, several even offering verbal greetings. It really was like a small town that had been plucked from a movie.
They had just stepped out of a small coffee shop when Ben’s phone began to ring. Quickly handing Rilynne his steaming cup, he dug into his pocket and pushed it up to his ear.
As he took the call, Rilynne let her mind drift. Although Mifflin had always lived in a large city, she had often heard him talk about packing up and moving to a small town and living a simple life. It wouldn’t have surprised her a bit to find him holed up some place just like this.
“That was Summers,” Ben said as he placed the phone back in his pocket a few moments later and reached for his coffee. Rilynne was almost sorry to let it go, because it had been warming her ungloved hand. “He was asking if he could process Christopher’s shirt.” When Rilynne gave him a quizzical look, he continued. “He said he saw the pictures of it on my desk and thought he saw a few drops that he didn’t feel were consistent with the conclusions that had been drawn so far.”
“How would they not be consistent?” she asked. “Does he think they could be from Mifflin?”
“It’s possible,” he replied. “I found two separate DNA profiles on the shirt, so it’s feasible that they could have come from Mifflin during the attack.”
“I didn’t see any obvious injuries on him when he came to visit me at the hospital the next morning, but I know Christopher was a fighter,” she said. “He wouldn’t have gone easily. Mifflin could have gotten a bloody nose, and it wouldn’t have been noticeable the next day.”
“Well, if anyone can tell us what happened by looking at the blood, it’s Summers.”
Of everyone working in the lab, there was no question that Ben thought the most of Daniel Summers. He was the only person Rilynne had ever seen him willingly accept assistance from on case he was working.
“Did he say anything about the analysis of the blood spatter in the room?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he replied, shaking his head quickly. “He’s still trying to identify what could have left that specific pattern. He’s actually taken it as a bit of a personal challenge since it wasn’t caused by something he’s encountered before. I don’t think he’s pleased with how long it’s taking him, though.”
“ I don’t imagine working off of pictures makes it any easier,” she said.
Ben shook his head again. “At least they took detailed measurements of the room. Whoever processed the scene did a pretty good job, actually.”
Rilynne’s jaw dropped dramatically as a shocked smile appeared on her face.
“What?” Ben asked when he looked up at her.
“Did you just complement another crime scene investigator?” she asked, followed by a quick chuckle.
“I’m not arrogant,” he said. “I give people compliments when they earn them. I just have a specific way of doing things, and how I like them done. Everyone has their own way, though, so it takes a lot to actually impress me.”
“I won’t lie,” she said. “Your high standards are a bit intimidating.”
He stepped closer and bumped her with his hip. “You’re the last person who would ever have to worry about not meeting someone else’s standards.”
She felt her cheeks begin to burn and turned away from him. “Well, I know that I’m awesome,” she said with fake sincerity. “I’m just worried about everyone else. I mean, you don’t want to be that guy.”
He didn’t seem to fall for her attempt at shifting the conversation, but didn’t push it further. Instead, he just made a low humming sound, followed by a chuckle.
“Did he say when he should have the results?” she asked.
He shrugged, dropping his empty coffee cup in the trashcan to their left. “I don’t imagine it’ll take him more than a couple days, at most. He can get a little obsessed and will devote all of his time to it until he gets an answer,” he explained. “Have you ever looked through the binders at his desk?” She shook her head, looking over at him curiously. “He has his own blood spatter library. He photographs every scene he g
oes to and every test that he performs himself. It gives him a good comparison when he’s trying to identify a weapon. Since Christopher’s scene doesn’t match anything he’s seen, he isn’t going to rest until he identifies what was used. I imagine it’ll be the topic of the next convention he speaks at, also.”
“Speaking of conventions, what are you speaking about at the Denver one next week?”
“Do you remember the test that we ran on the fibers pulled from the first Pirate Killer victim?” he asked.
She thought back briefly before answering. “The scent test, right? If memory serves, that test actually identified the fiber as coming from your car,” she chortled. “I think I might have to join you at this convention. I just want to see the look on the faces in the audience when you tell them your test ended up helping to name you as the prime suspect in a serial killer case.”
“Well, it wasn’t inaccurate,” he said defensively. “The fiber had actually come from my car.”
“True,” she said as she ducked under a low hanging branch that reached across the sidewalk. “And it wasn’t your fault you were being framed. It actually sounds like it’ll make a good teaching experience. Like you said, forensics don’t lie.”
“You should come,” he responded. “You can watch me do what I do.”
“I can also sit back and watch all of your groupies fawning over you.” She glanced over and saw his ears turn crimson.
“I don’t have groupies,” he said.
She couldn’t keep herself from laughing. “I’ve met two in the last four months, and those are just the ones I’ve crossed paths with.”
He looked confused. “I know you said your old chief follows my lectures,” he stated. “Who’s the other one?”
“Your intern, Scarlett,” she replied without looking over at him. “She told me the first day we met that she had seen you speak, and it was one of the reasons she took the job in Addison Valley. I think that was the first time I realized you were so worshiped in the forensic world.”
“Eh.” Ben shook that statement off in his familiar, humble way. He may be one of the best in his field, but he certainly didn’t have the ego that usually went along with it. “When people want to be good at their choice career, they want to learn from the top people.”
“Yeah, well I think I will go next week,” she said. She looked over as she did and saw a grin sneaking across his face.
“So, I was wondering something,” Ben asked as they walked down the quiet streets. “Plastic surgery isn’t cheap. Do you really think that Mifflin would have been able to afford it? It’s not like he could bill his insurance for it.”
Rilynne hadn’t considered the expense behind it. Her face twisted in contemplation. “Well,” she said several moments later, “he did leave with a decent amount of cash. If he were truly concerned with being recognized, which I imagine he was, he would have spent all he could on the procedure. I wouldn’t put it past him to spend every dime he had if it meant being able to evade arrest.”
“That’s kind of risky, isn’t it?” he asked. He led her to a bench just outside the gazebo. “I mean, if he spent all of his money on plastic surgery, wouldn’t he be at a higher risk of being detected? He would have to get a job just to support himself. I’m assuming he forged a new identity, but they can fall apart fairly easily.”
The sun warmed her face as she sat down on the cool bench.
“I honestly hadn’t given it much thought,” she said as he sat down next to her. “Who knows how much money he had on him, though. If he was willing to kill, there’s no telling what else he could have been doing while on the force. I’ve heard of dirty cops that put away millions before being caught. For all we know, he could have left with enough money to buy his own private island.”
“Now that would be the life,” Ben joked. “Maybe I’ll look into getting one of those someday. I wouldn’t mind living away from it all for a while.”
Rilynne grinned and said, “I imagine you’d get pretty lonely out there all by yourself. I would give you two days before you start trying to solve some sort of mystery. You’d be using forensics to try and find out which sea turtle ate your supply of vegetables.”
Ben laughed and shook his head. “You could always stop by to keep me company. I would no doubt need help interrogating those sea turtles.”
Rilynne rolled her eyes and leaned back on the bench, letting the sun stretch over her. Before closing her eyes, she glanced over at Ben to find a grin covering his face.
*
“I honestly didn’t expect for this little town to have a bowling alley,” Rilynne said as they walked into the low-lit room. There was a small counter against the wall and six lanes set up under two large disco balls.
“There isn’t much to do for fun in small towns,” Ben replied. “Besides, everyone loves bowling.”
After grabbing their shoes, they took the last available lane.
“It’s been a while since I’ve bowled,” Rilynne said, pulling her shoes off. “And I’ve never been somewhere that you had to manually keep score.”
“There’s a small alley in Addison Valley that still does it like this,” Ben stated as he pulled a dark blue ball off of the rack. “They have dollar game nights on Wednesdays. We’ll have to go sometime.”
“It’s a date,” she said playfully. “I’m going to go grab a pitcher of beer, then prepare to get your butt kicked.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
She glanced over as she walked away and caught him watching her leave. When their eyes met, he quickly looked away, his ears reaching that unmistakable shade red. She felt her insides give a sudden jump as she turned back around. As hard as she tried, she was unable to keep the smile off of her face as she made her way back to the counter.
“Ladies first,” he said when she returned a few minutes later and placed a foaming pitcher on the table with two chilled glasses.
She picked up the bright orange ball and rolled it down the lane, turning back toward Ben the moment it left her fingers.
“You aren’t even going to watch?” Ben looked up at her curiously. He peered around her and nodded gently as the crack echoed through the room. “Not bad, but can you pick up those last two for the spare?”
“Just watch me.” She took a sip of her beer and reached down again for her ball, rolling it toward the last remaining pins.
Chapter Eight
“Good morning, Detective, Mr. Davis,” Byman said as they stepped into his office.
“Were you able to find anything?” Rilynne got straight to the point.
He shook his head and folded his arms, leaning so far back in his chair that Rilynne was sure it would topple over. “I had the dogs cover all of the area surrounding the locations with the plant, but they didn’t turn up anything. It could be that he buried your girl further out and just crossed through a patch on his way back to the road, but without a location to search, there isn’t much I can do.”
Rilynne nodded, knowing he was right. There were hundreds of acres surrounding the three locations the plants could be found. If Melissa Roberts was buried out there, chances were they wouldn’t be able to find her without Mifflin’s help.
“Now, I called the clinic and set up an appointment for us to meet with them at four. In the mean time, we can start working our way around the bars. One of them is open now, and one will be open in about two hours. The other two don’t open until three, but that leaves us with enough time to stop for some lunch,” he said as he stood and reached for his coat.
She was impressed with how much thought he seemed to have put into their day.
They took Detective Byman’s jeep, Ben insisting on taking the back seat so Rilynne could sit up front. The first bar they came to reminded Rilynne of one she used to go to while in college. Attached to the side of the building was a large covered patio with several pool tables set up and a bar that appeared to have been out of use for some time.
Despite being ju
st after nine, there were already several people seated at the bar with drinks in their hands. The bartender, a man no more than a few years older than herself, had dark hair that reached the middle of his back, which he had tied neatly back.
“Hey, J.J., this is my cousin Amy and her husband Ben,” Byman said as he leaned against the bar. Though taken aback by the story Detective Byman was telling, Rilynne was grateful. She glanced over at Ben to see if he looked as shocked as she felt, but found only a look of pure delight on his face. “We have a little bit of a sensitive situation that I was hoping you could help us with.”
“Sure, Korey. Let me get these out and I’ll be right with you.” He sat the beers in his hand down in front of the couple at the end of the bar before walking around and joining them at the table in the corner.
“Ben’s brother ran into a bit of trouble a little while back, and has been on the run. Now, if we can get him to turn himself in, it’ll really help him out. The problem is, if he knew we were looking for him, he would just run again. I was hoping we could get a little discretion.”
“Of course,” J.J. said with a gentle, understanding nod. “I have a brother of my own who’s always been a bit of trouble. Do you have a picture or the name he would be going by?”
“We don’t know what name he’s using, but we do have a picture,” Rilynne said as she slid it across the table. “He left home a little over a year and a half ago, and we were hoping he might have come out here. He always admired the pictures we had from our trips up here to see Korey, and thought he might try to see it himself.”
“He’s always been a bit of a drinker, his favorite being whiskey,” Ben added surprisingly confident with his story, as improvised as it was.
“I’m afraid I don’t recognize him,” J.J. replied as he studied the photograph carefully. “If I do see him come in, though, I’ll call you immediately.”
“Thanks for your help, J.J.,” Byman said as he extended his hand.
To her disappointment, the other three bars went about the same.
“Well, if he wanted to remain hidden, he might have avoided the bars on purpose. After all, bartenders are like therapists. When you’ve had enough to drink, you could end up telling them anything,” Ben stated as they climbed back into the jeep. “He could have easily just visited a liquor store if he needed a drink and avoided the risk.”