A Distant Echo

by Tara Meyers

  Chris waited for the story to continue, but as the silence dragged out, she cleared her throat. “Is that it?”

  “Well, yeah. Kind of. That might not seem like much, but it was a super weird thing for her to say.”

  “Do you think she might have been dating an older man that you and her parents didn’t know about?” Chris pressed, hoping for more.

  “No way. If Lisa were like, with a guy, I would have known. But I was thinking about it, and what if she was chatting with some old guy online? What if he talked her into meeting him? Lisa was normally smarter than that, but you never know. I hear about that kind of stuff happening all the time, right? Have you checked her computer?”

  Chris took a moment to consider her answer before replying. “I looked at her online activity already, but the forensics team is going over it more thoroughly right now. But Emily, I want you to think about something for me. There were a dozen calls made to Lisa’s cell over the past several months from a disposable phone. The last four digits were 0028. Does that sound familiar to you? Or can you recall Lisa having any odd conversations that she acted like she didn’t want you to hear? Did she ever mention someone named Martin?”

  “No,” Emily answered after a brief hesitation. “Not that I can remember. But …,”

  “Go on,” Chris prompted, while staring up at a red light she had stopped at. The afternoon traffic was getting thicker, the closer she got to the Seattle Center.

  “There was this one time last month, when we played this game that was supposed to predict who you’d marry. Mine was super lame, but Lisa acted all dreamy about her ‘mystery’ man, whose name started with an M. I remember, because I teased her about it being our friend Michael, who’s had a major crush on her since first grade. But she made kind of a big deal about it not being Michael, but refused to say why.”

  Chris’s pulse kicked up a bit, and she had to force herself to focus on the road. “Emily, thanks. This is the kind of stuff I need. If you think of anything else, please call me. It doesn’t matter when it is.”

  “Sure, but Miss Echo … you need to find him. You need to find the son-of-a-bitch that did that to Lisa!”

  Chris didn’t get a chance to make a promise she might not be able to keep, because the phone abruptly went dead. A honk from an impatient driver notified her of the green light, and she sped through the intersection.

  Pulling over at the next parking lot she passed, Chris then riffled through the papers spread around on the front passenger seat. Finding the one she was looking for, she studied the address before pulling back out onto the road. Turning at the next corner, she drove past the iconic Space Needle before eventually making her way to I5, where she headed north.

  Martin Eastabrooke happened to live in an upscale neighborhood in Issaquah, about halfway between Seattle and her own home in North Bend.

  While she had a forty-minute commute on a good day, Chris felt it was worth it. She appreciated the city of Seattle, and the job market there, but was most at home in the mountains. Fortunately, you never had to go very far in the state of Washington to find them.

  After a brief twenty minutes of highway travel, she pulled off one of the first exits for Issaquah. Hunting down a coffee stand wasn’t difficult, and after getting a tall vanilla latte and bagel, she found a far corner of the lot to park in.

  Abandoning her favorite lunch, Chris got out of the sedan and went around to the trunk. In it was a complete forensics kit, including a nice Nikon D5500 camera. She stood staring into the open compartment for a full minute, and then grabbed the bag.

  She was about to go rogue.

  Not that she was necessarily doing anything illegal or wrong. But it most certainly wasn’t within the parameters of what she was supposed to be doing this afternoon.

  Closing the trunk, she convinced herself that just a quick drive-by wouldn’t hurt anything. It would be highly unlikely for him to be home that early on a Thursday. She just needed to see where he lived. What kind of house he had, what sort of yard and neighbors. It would help form a more complete picture of the person she was trying to decipher.

  Ten minutes later, half of the bagel was gone, and Chris was sitting at a four-way stop sign. Taking a long sip from her coffee, she stared up the tree-lined street. It was an older community, with established yards and handsome homes. The kind you let your kids ride their bikes in without any fear. His house should be a little way up and on the right.

  Her pulse quickening, Chris concentrated on controlling her breathing. She couldn’t help but feel like the prey, rather than the predator.

  At risk of appearing suspicious, she finally accelerated, with the plan to first roll past at a normal speed, before finding somewhere to pull over and quietly observe from a distance. Watching the house numbers, Eastabrooke’s was suddenly in front of her before she expected it. Cursing under her breath when she saw the sedan in his driveway, she quickly looked around the cottage-style building for any sign of him outside.

  There was a man standing in the side yard. Gasping, Chris almost sped up, but then she noticed the darker skinned man was wearing obvious work clothes and had a lawnmower. He had to be a gardener. Then, she was past the property, and craning her neck to look back. There was an old, beat-up pickup truck at the curb, with a crude sign that said ‘Yard Champions’. It probably belonged to the man pushing the mower.

  Turning at the next corner, Chris pulled over under the shade of a large maple tree. Selecting the thinner file at the bottom of the stack, she found the document listing Martin Eastabrooke’s vehicle make and model. A 2014 Lexus IS F. It was worth more than what she made in a year. That was definitely his car in the driveway, and since he was supposed to live alone … it also meant that he must be home.

  Scratching at her head, Chris then slammed the file back down in frustration. Why would he be home from work? Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she considered her options briefly before pulling back out. Making a loop, she then parked just past that same intersection, but facing the other way, towards his house. She was in front of a two-story country style house with an empty driveway, and the shades were all pulled. A for-sale sign was in the front yard, which was another reason she chose this curb space. If anyone got curious, she could easily say that she was a potential buyer. It would even explain the camera.

  Opening the large camera bag, Chris selected a telephoto lens. Attaching it to the body, she then peered through the viewfinder and focused first on the worker’s truck. Good. It was a great angle and she could see it clearly.

  Next, she pulled back to a wider view and snapped some pictures of the front yard and house. She could tell that the maintenance on the yard was done often, and it struck her as odd. While it was a nice area, it wasn’t a gated community with HOA’s, or strict requirements. Chris would classify it as upper-middle class, and suspected that families, not single men, occupied most of the 3-4 bedroom homes. It was a small yard, and one that he could have easily managed on his own. Shrugging, Chris filed it away for later contemplation.

  Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Chris hesitated. This was stupid. It wasn’t like he’d have a sign on his front door saying, ‘I’m a killer’. There were times when she questioned herself more than her superiors. But, she had come to learn to trust her instincts. It didn’t always have to make sense.

  The car. It was backed in, and as she focused on the windshield and clicked off a few more images, someone walked in front of it, blocking her vision. Yanking her head back, she saw Martin Eastabrooke reach in the sedan briefly before going to the trunk. Chris was a bit disappointed when all he pulled out was a hiker’s backpack, but that, along with the hiking attire he still wore, explained why he wasn’t at work.

  Zooming in on his shoes, she jumped again when her phone rang. Caller ID informed her that it was Andrew, and the guilt she talked herself out of earlier came rushing back full force. Tossing the camera in its bag, she then quickly backed into the driveway of the for s
ale house, and sped away. So long as she was technically on her way home, she wouldn’t have to lie to him.

  Chris answered the call on the fifth ring.

  Three

  Trees rushed past Chris as she jogged along the forest trail, her breath keeping an even rhythm with her feet.

  She knew the route so well, that she could almost run it with her eyes closed. Chris had carved the track out of the dirt herself, after carefully choosing the best course through the dense woods. It resembled a deer trail, since her only tools had been her feet, and to the casual observer, it would appear a natural part of the environment. That’s how she liked it.

  One of the reasons she purchased this twenty-acre piece of property, was because it backed up against state land. The quaint two-bedroom cabin that came with it needed a little work, but that didn’t scare her away. Or the fact that it was so secluded, that her friends questioned her decision to move out there. She preferred the solitude, when she wasn’t at work. She’d learned long ago in counseling that part of being a survivor was choosing not to give in to your fear. She might have taken the mentality a little too far, but for Chris, it was all in or not at all.

  Dodging a low-hanging branch, she then sidestepped a large root and hopped over a log. Smiling, Chris picked up speed. This was her favorite part of the course, where it dipped down into a ravine and followed along a small creek. The forest felt magical here, like a scene ripped from a medieval tale. It was also the most challenging section, with plenty of deadfall and rocks to scramble over and around.

  Physical fitness had always been an important part of Chris Echo’s life. While she’d never been described as skinny, due to her height and solid frame, she’d come to accept and appreciate having an ‘athletic’ build. She was strong for a woman, and it was one of the reasons why she had excelled while at the police academy. The challenge of her obstacle course in the woods was a perfect way to keep fit.

  Slipping on a moss-covered boulder, she almost went down, but managed to grab at a nearby trunk and stop herself. Laughing, Chris pushed even harder, picking up speed so that she was almost sprinting by the time she began to cross a large tree that had fallen over the creek, creating a natural bridge.

  At the midway point, her luck finally ran out, and her foot caught the sharp remnant of a broken branch, sending her flying. Crying out in alarm, Chris frantically flailed her arms, clawing at anything that might give her purchase. She slammed down onto the rough surface hard enough to knock the breath out of her, but she still managed to wrap her arms around the trunk in a death grip, keeping herself from falling off and into the ten-foot void below.

  Facedown, Chris closed her eyes briefly before pushing herself up onto her knees. Breathing in the earthy smell of freshly disturbed moss on the trunk mingled with the lighter pine scent of the woods, she took stock. Other than a few scrapes to her chin and elbows, she appeared to be uninjured. Peering down at the jagged rocks below, she realized how stupid she had been.

  Cautiously, she returned the way she’d come. Time to get back to reality. Running out here was both a stress reducer and a form of escape. Today, she had to admit it was the later.

  Andrew’s call had unsettled her. He’d offered to come over and help her ‘get through the files’. What that really meant was, ‘I’ll come over and we can pretend to be interested in the case. You’ll ask me to stay for dinner because it would be the polite thing to do. We’ll have a glass or two of wine, and after a couple of failed attempts at seducing you, we’ll eventually end up having sex, because there’s no denying the chemistry between us.’

  She had politely told him no thank you.

  The problem was that she wondered if turning him down repeatedly was really because of how their friendship started. Hadn’t he proven himself to her since then? Maybe it was just a convenient excuse for not allowing anyone to get close to her.

  Stumbling again, this time on a rock, Chris stopped and placed her hands on her hips, breathing heavily. She was distracted. The perfect example of why she didn’t need to get romantically involved with anyone, especially not Andrew. Not only would it complicate her life, but they also had to work together. The department had policies on fraternization, and while it was normally overlooked unless the couple started talking marriage, Chris wasn’t interested in muddying the waters at the office.

  Taking a step forward, she glanced down to assure that she didn’t trip over anything else, and noticed a wrapper off to the side. Instantly irritated, she bent over and picked it up, noting how it was a brand of power bar she didn’t eat. Someone else had been on her trail.

  Looking around at the trees as though she’d been betrayed, Chris forced herself to admit that while she made the trail, she was currently standing on state land, so anyone could use it. It wasn’t that often that another hiker discovered it though, and she’d only seen someone out there one other time.

  Shoving the wrapper into the pocket of her running shorts, she tried to focus on the fact that by comparison, the maintained trails of the forestry service would be overrun by people. That she didn’t have to drive to a trailhead, and take a chance of having her car getting broken into was cause enough to smile. Let alone the money she saved by not having to purchase a pass--”

  Stopping again, Chris took a sharp intake of breath. The forestry pass! It was a sure sign of a hiker, when you saw the orange ticket hanging from the rearview mirror. In Washington State, you were required to purchase the annual pass in order to park at the trailheads. Why hadn’t she made the connection before? She was certain she’d seen the distinguishable item in one of the evidence photos of the things inventoried from Lisa’s car. And the first possible victim from ten years ago had been a forest ranger!

  Breaking out into a run, Chris forgot about being careful. Reaching blindly for her fanny pack, she unzipped it and pulled out her cell phone. The only person she could think of to call was Andrew. He was the most likely one to go to Mick for her and get him to agree to let her come back in tomorrow.

  When he didn’t answer the phone, she hung up in frustration. Slowing to a walk, she broke down and sent a text message to him, something she rarely did.

  Andrew, call me! I have to talk with you ASAP!!!

  Slipping the phone back in next to her pepper spray, she began running again. She was eager to get home. Not only was it starting to get dark in the woods, but there was possibly another piece of crucial evidence on the camera. Evidence that could finally provide the link between Martin Eastabrooke and his victims.

  Four

  Unlocking the front door of her cabin, Chris then tossed her fanny back on the kitchen counter before grabbing some water from the fridge. Guzzling the cool liquid as she made a beeline for the files, she winced at the cold-induced brain freeze.

  The main living space was one open room, including the family room, dining room, and kitchen. The back half included two bedrooms and the bathroom. It was the perfect size for her, and she’d made a number of upgrades, including new tile and wood floors.

  First, she grabbed Lisa’s file, and started spreading the papers over the dining room table until she found the one she was looking for. “Aha!” she exclaimed, holding it up to the light for a closer look.

  Tim Swanson, their lead forensics tech, had lined up over a dozen items on a table. He’d commented on how messy Lisa’s car was. It was apparently full of school stuff, clothes, old food, and lots of what he called ‘garbage’.

  One particular photo contained several receipts, a couple of napkins, what looked like homework … and an orange forestry pass.

  “Yes!” Chris shouted in triumph, but didn’t even pause. Still holding the picture, she grabbed the Nikon that she’d left with her purse on the couch. Sitting down, she turned it on and started scrolling through the thirty or so images she’d taken.

  Her headache was ebbing by the time she found the picture she wanted. Zooming in on the windshield, a broad smile spread across her face. Hanging from
the review mirror was a square orange piece of paper. Given that Martin had clearly been hiking, it made sense that he also had the pass. He must have removed it when he’d leaned in the front seat, because the item was absent from the two photos she took afterward.

  Straightening up, Chris rested the damning evidence in her lap and stared out the nearby window. The woods were so silent and peaceful. While relieved to finally have the one thing that might successfully connect Eastabrooke to the victims, it pained Chris to think that it might have been that same need for solace that led to the women’s murders.

  Shaking her head, Chris tried to break free of the oppressive emotions. She had a lot of work to do. First, she had to get Andrew on board with helping her convince Martin to put her back on the case immediately. She needed access to the evidence collected from the first two murders. She would be looking at it all differently.

  There was a very real possibility that the second murder involving Stephanie, Martin’s ex-girlfriend, was the anomaly. She may be the only one he had a relationship with, and where she needed to focus. Chris would interview her friends and family again, but this time with new and more pointed questions about her relationship with Martin. Did they go hiking? Where did they go? What trails?

  She needed to closely examine the timeframe before the park ranger, Kelly Humphry, was found. Except that, Chris would also investigate the campground itself. All of the registered campers, and the reservations. Hopefully, the state kept records for that long.

  Lisa’s cell phone!

  Chris’s thoughts sped faster as she got up and began to pace. Kid’s lives played out on their cell phones. She needed to go back to right before Lisa started receiving the phone calls from the disposable phone. She would bet that there was a hiking trip right around the same time. Maybe Lisa met a handsome, successful man while out on a hike by herself. She could have been flattered when he asked for her number.