Too Close to Home (The Forensic Files)

by Tressa Messenger

  “I wanted to be here for you. Besides, those kids will still be dead tomorrow.”

  “You better hope so,” she said with a smile. “Thanks, by the way.”

  “Hey, what are partners for?”

  “Have you heard from Linda at the M.E.’s office yet?” she asked, hopeful.

  “No, maybe you can call her when you get out.”

  ***

  The following morning they released Carma into the care of her partner. “Are you sure you should go home? You know you could always come stay at my house. I have an extra room.”

  “Harold, I will not be driven out of my own house or stop living my life.”

  “But aren’t you worried he’ll come back? What would you do then?”

  “I refuse to be a victim, and if there is a next time, I will be prepared.”

  “Lord, I feel sorry for the poor fool if he is dumb enough to go back there.”

  Me, too, Carma thought to herself as she stared out Harold’s passenger window on their way from the hospital in New Bern to her cottage.

  “Home sweet home,” Harold said, helping her out of the car once they made it over her long bumpy dirt road.

  As soon as she opened the front door, she froze in her tracks when she saw the destruction all around. “Bastard tore my house apart.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty much like this when I found you, with the added mess from Sheriff Ron’s investigating crew.”

  “Sheriff Ron put together a crew and personally went through my house?”

  “Yep, he wanted to keep the attack on the down low.”

  I guess that explains why Mike never came to the hospital, Carma thought, then asked, “Why would anyone do this?”

  “The only thing I can think of is the Cooley/ Marks investigation. Maybe someone thought you found something that you shouldn’t have.”

  She looked around, silently observing the disaster that was once her charming safe house, then spun around and looked at Harold, her face gone white around the red and purple bruises. “The pictures!”

  “Dang, I didn’t even think about those, but we don’t even have them yet.”

  “No, but the killer doesn’t know that. And if he knows about the pictures, that means he is definitely someone in her life that she would have confided in about her stalker and is now worried Ronald Marks could have seen him. Harold, we have to find those pictures.”

  She looked around the room, her eyes scanning the mess until her stare rested on the peaceful scene outside her back door. “Shit!” she cursed and took off running through the house and threw the back door wide open. She lifted the cushion on the wicker loveseat and let out a deep breath.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I just remembered putting the diary here the other day. I was scared he took it.”

  “Do you think that is what he was looking for?”

  “Could be, but as far as I know, no one knows about it or, at the very least, that I had it.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “I want access to Ronald’s locker. It is the last place we have to look for the pictures.”

  “Don’t you think you should rest some first?”

  “I’ll rest when I’m dead. Right now there’s a double homicide to solve. The sooner that’s done, the sooner I will rest.”

  “As much as it pains me to, I’ll call Mr. White while you shower up.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  On the way to the high school, Carma called Linda. “Hey, Linda, it’s Carma. Do you have anything for me on the boy yet?”

  Linda opened up his chart and looked at her notes, “After an external exam I focused my attention on the bruising around his neck and came to the conclusion that he definitely died from his hyoid bone being fractured.”

  “In English?”

  “In English, his neck broke when he was hanged.”

  “And you’re certain of that?”

  “His hyoid bone appears to have broken right away and he has major rope burns on the front portion of his neck, most likely from the friction caused from the sudden stop when he was let go. I didn’t find any other injuries, only dirt under his nails, which is linked to the dirt on the football field.”

  “Linda, please tell me he got some DNA from the bastard.”

  “No such luck.”

  “Could you tell if Ronald had any help or did he do it to himself?”

  “Suicide?” Linda asked pointedly.

  “Yeah.”

  “That, I don’t know. There isn’t any other bruising suggesting a struggle and I can’t imagine him being forced up there without one, or at the very least being conscious. And if he was knocked out, he would have been pretty heavy to haul up there by one person, plus I would have found a point of impact. My next thought is the possibility that he was drugged, but again, he would have been dead weight. No matter how scrawny he was, it would have been difficult for one man. I’m hoping for toxicology to come back in from Raleigh within a few days. I put a rush in.”

  “So you’re leaning towards suicide then?”

  “I didn’t say that. It’s all speculation right now. It’s hard to believe he climbed up there on his own to display his death like that, but then again, kids are so dramatic. But keeping with the theme, he would have left a dramatic or cryptic note, don’t you think? I just don’t have the right answer for that. I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything else.”

  “What if the perp wrapped the rope around his neck and hauled him up there from the ground?”

  Linda was quiet for a minute. “That would make total sense.”

  “I think so, too. We were looking at the pictures after I got off the Skype call with you and saw some significant rubbing of paint on the goal post where the rope is.”

  “I think you are completely right. I’ll type up my preliminary report and send it over to your office.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Linda.”

  They pulled into the school parking lot that afternoon and parked behind Mr. White’s gray Oldsmobile at the school’s front entrance. Carma stared at the yellow police tape marking off the entrance and shuddered. The school had been closed since Wednesday, almost a week ago, when Melissa’s body was discovered and the only people allowed in the school since Ronald’s body was found were the Sheriff’s deputies, which made the school seem stuffy and eerie.

  Mr. White met them at the entrance and gasped when he saw the damage to Carma’s face. “My gracious! Are you all right? Shouldn’t you be home resting or something?”

  “There’s no rest for the weary,” she mumbled. “I’ll be fine once this case is solved.”

  “I hope so. It’s all everyone is talking about. Regardless of the rumors, I didn’t imagine you looking this bad.”

  “So much for keeping it on the down low, word gets around fast,” Carma mumbled.

  “Well, this is the county. I sure am sorry, though. There are some strange happenings going on lately,” Mr. White said.

  “Yes, there are, and thanks. It looks and feels much worse than it actually is,” Carma said.

  Mr. White led them into the front office toward a row of large metal file cabinets on the back wall that looked like they had been there since before Carma went to school there. He flipped through a few files before pulling one out.

  “Wow, Mr. White! How far back do these files go?” she asked.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know, Miss. Jones? Ahh… locker 119.” He wrote down the locker number and combination before returning the file to its resting place, where it would probably sit until the next principal came along and cleared them out.

  Mr. White walked out of the office without saying a word. Carma was too busy eyeing the wall of cabinets to notice, wanting so badly to see what mysteries she had in her permanent file. She tried to be a good student while in school, but her feisty nature wouldn’t let her just sit idly by while so many other things needed her attention. She
was a detective from birth, probably due to her dad. Justice was in her blood and she got into a lot of trouble seeing it through.

  “Come along, Miss. Jones.”

  “Oh, coming,” she said and hurried after them.

  Mr. White proceeded to lead them into the senior hallway and opened the old locker that belonged to Ronald and stood back to let Carma in for a look. She went through its entire contents one item at a time, handing each item to Harold after she was finished going through them. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, since its contents were typical of a high school locker with a couple of books, some trash and a notebook full of drawings on every page. Once the locker was completely cleaned out she spotted one lone memory stick pushed toward the back of the locker on the top shelf, its dark color almost completely blending with the shadowy dark interior of the locker.

  “Hmm…I wonder what’s on it,” she said, holding up the little black object as if it was a fragile treasure and any pressure could destroy it.

  “Hopefully, something. We haven’t found shit yet,” Harold said.

  “You can use my computer,” Mr. White offered.

  They followed Mr. White back to the office. He fired up the old desktop and held the leather chair out for Carma to sit.

  “Please let this little thing give us something,” she prayed, plugging it in.

  She scanned through a few folders containing research papers and such for school, as well as a few scanned drawings, surprising her that they were actually very beautifully done. She disappointedly clicked on the last folder without a title, not really expecting anything, but as soon as the images appeared on the small screen, her heart skipped a beat and she leaned in closer for a better look.

  “Bingo, baby!” she yelled.

  Harold and Mr. White, who lost interest a few minutes into the search through the memory stick, are now leaning in close behind her, staring at the random photos of Melissa Cooley as they flashed across the screen.

  “Hey wait, go back,” Harold said impatiently.

  Carma did as she was told and stared at a picture of Melissa and a mystery man standing outside by a car. “He caught her in the act and I’m willing to bet by that guy’s dark brown hair that she isn’t with our fair-haired Robert Lee.”

  “Damn, kid had balls to follow her that closely.”

  “Yeah well, I still can’t make out a face. We are going to have to take it back to the office to see if I can get my contact from the Pamlico newspaper to come in and do something with it.” Without looking any further, Carma took the little memory stick out of the computer and put it in her pocket for safe keeping. They thanked Mr. White for all his help and headed back to the office, praying her computer whiz could work her magic.

  When Carma got back to the office, she called her contact at the Pamlico newspaper, Frieda, to see if she could clear up the pictures for her. Since Freda arrived Carma had been impatiently sitting at her desk catching up on paperwork while waiting for Frieda to do her thing. She was so anxious to see those pictures more clearly. She tried standing behind her shoulder for a few minutes, watching as she worked, but Frieda demanded she leave right away.

  “Hey, Jones.”

  “What’s up, Sheriff?”

  “In my office! Now!” he demanded.

  Carma put the paperwork she was working on in a neat pile and ambled to the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Ron was as tough as they came but all in all he was a damn fine sheriff. Carma had known the sheriff since she was a kid. He and her father both went through grade school together, as well as police training. They had been best friends their whole adult lives and continued to work with the Pamlico County police force side by side until her father became a detective when she was ten and Sheriff Ron followed a couple of years later. Her dad only just retired a few years ago and Sheriff Ron got his job right before Carma became a detective. He was insistent she join his unit when the detective job came up, but he never once showed her favoritism.

  Carma entered the office and sat in the smooth leather chair in front of his desk. Sheriff Ron didn’t turn around to acknowledge her arrival so she sat quietly looking around at all the photos on the wall. She smiled when she saw the framed picture of him and her father the day they graduated from police training.

  “How are you feeling, Jones?” he finally asked.

  She pried her eyes off the pictures and focused back on Sheriff Ron, who was now facing her. “Sore, but I think I’ll live.”

  “Good to hear. Now wipe that silly smile off your face.”

  “Yes, sir.” She continued to smile despite herself.

  “Can you please tell me why the hell I got reamed out this morning about you questioning the Superior Court Judge’s son?”

  Carma leaned forward and rested her arms on his desk. “Sir, Robert Lee is a part of the Melissa Cooley and Ronald Marks investigation. I only questioned him because he was dating Melissa and they were supposed to meet up that night.”

  Sheriff Ron leaned back in his chair and stared at Carma. “Is he a suspect?”

  “No, not at the moment,” she lied.

  “Well tread lightly with that one. His father has a lot of pull and has the ability to make both our lives hell. I want you stay clear of the Lees unless you have one hundred percent cause. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, now go back to work.”

  Carma went back to her desk and stared at the paperwork from the case in a neat pile in front of her, her mind on Robert Lee all the while.

  Do you have something to hide, Mr. Lee? If so, I will find it regardless of who your daddy is. You don't know it but you just jumped to the top of my watch list, Carma thought with a smile.

  “Hey, Carma, I got something for you,” Frieda said, breaking her thoughts.

  “Oh, Frieda, sorry. I was in my own world. Did you say you have something?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  Carma pushed away from her desk and jumped to her feet and followed Frieda to the desk where she was working. She leaned over her shoulder, looking at the blown up pictures on the screen.

  “These are pictures of just the girl. He captured her doing all kinds of random things.” She turned from the screen to look at Carma. “I don’t know how much importance there is in any of them. You can take a look and see if you can find anything later if you want. I made copies.”

  Carma nodded.

  “Here are the ones you flagged with the man. It’s really pixilated, causing the details to be fuzzy since I had to blow them up.”

  Carma stared at a picture of the back of Melissa’s car. It appeared to be nighttime and the only light to illuminate the scene was from the moon. Melissa was sitting in the driver’s seat with a man, with what looked like short brown hair, in the passenger seat. The next picture was of them kissing, still not angled enough to see the man’s face.

  “Hello!” Carma said, shocked to see Melissa now in the back seat straddling the man’s lap, her face contorted in ecstasy. The windows were partially fogged up due to heavy breathing in the compact space. There was no doubt what they were doing.

  “Bingo!” Carma said, looking closely at the next picture. It was still too grainy to make out details, but the man was more exposed, standing outside of Melissa’s car now, facing her.

  “Dammit! Show your face already,” Carma cursed, then clicked on the last picture.

  Carma froze and the breath got caught in her throat as she stared at the picture. The man looked as if he was looking directly at her, his familiar brown eyes boring into her soul, a man she had known for most of her life, a man she thought was perfect, who just had sex with a seventeen-year-old Melissa Cooley in her Honda Civic. The same man she herself just made love to only days ago. She hurriedly pressed the X at the top of the screen to close the picture. With trembling hands, she snatched the memory stick out of the computer.

  “Hey, wait! What are you doing?” Frieda asked alarmed, staring at Carma as if she had lost her mi
nd.

  “I have to take this.”

  “Okay,” Frieda drew out. “But you do know you are supposed to eject the memory stick the proper way before snatching it out like that?”

  “Sorry. Has anyone else seen these?”

  “No, I went to get you right away. Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I gotta go.”

  “Okay, bye. You’re welcome by the way,” Frieda called to Carma’s descending back.

  Carma bypassed her desk. Harold called after her, but she ignored him, as well. She felt like she had to get out of there before she lost her mind. She pushed her way through the Sheriff’s Department, keeping her head low so as to not make eye contact with anyone, fearing if she did someone would see right through her. As soon as the warm humid air outside hit her, she leaned against her car and bent over trying to breathe.

  “Hey Carma, what’s going on?” a deputy asked on his way into the building. Carma didn’t answer, but hurriedly jumped in her car and rushed home.

  As soon as she entered the sanctity of her house, she fell to the hardwood floor and let it all out. She cried deep painful sobs of tears that wouldn’t seem to stop. Everything she thought she had known for most of her life was all wrong now. Nothing was as it should be. She lay on the cool floor and stared ahead through the back door made of glass at the peaceful river outside, not wanting to close her eyes because every time she did, she saw his face. Her cell phone rung over and over, but she didn’t answer. She had to sort it all out in her head before she was able to face anyone, especially him.

  Sometime in the night, Carma opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by complete darkness. She looked around confused, not remembering falling asleep. Weakly, she crawled over to the end table beside the couch and turned on the lamp and looked around through red puffy eyes. She got to her feet and walked to the back door and opened it wide, letting in the warm humid night air, hoping it would wash away her pain. Quickly she spun around and kicked out at the full body-bag, then began her assault punching at the bag with everything she had. Once all of her energy was spent and she couldn’t swing anymore, she hugged the bag and screamed into the night.