Telling Lies (A Sam Mason Mystery Book 1)

by L A Dobbs

  Telling Lies

  A Sam Mason Mystery - Book 1

  L A Dobbs

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Also by L. A. Dobbs

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The clump of moist brown earth hit the top of the casket with a thud. The hollow echo was a grim reminder of how quickly life could be snuffed out. Chief Sam Mason knew that well because inside the silvery-blue casket lay the body of one of his own. Officer Tyler Richardson.

  Staring down at the casket, anger burning a hole in his chest, Sam made a silent promise to Tyler. He was going to find the person that shot him down and make him pay.

  As chief of police of White Rock, New Hampshire, the responsibility for Tyler’s death weighed heavily on his broad shoulders. He was supposed to serve and protect the public—and here he couldn’t even keep one of his own officers from getting killed.

  Tyler had only been twenty-eight—over a decade younger than Sam—and only a few months shy of making sergeant when his life had been cut short at a routine stop. Tyler had always been one to help the next guy. Ironically, that was what had gotten him killed. He’d pulled over to help a vehicle with a flat tire. How was he to know the driver had stolen that vehicle? Or that the driver would shoot him down in cold blood and run off?

  The incident had stirred up the quiet northern New Hampshire town. And this crime was cowardly. Even so, Sam had made sure Tyler got a hero’s burial.

  It was late spring. A time when the locals came out in droves to enjoy the good weather. A time for picnics and town celebrations. But not today. The chirping birds, budding trees, and smell of freshly dug earth and new spring grass had done nothing to ease the sorrow that clung to the crowd. Practically the whole town had come out to mourn Tyler. Dressed in shades of black and gray, they huddled in groups, the morning dew sticking in drops to their newly shined patent-leather shoes.

  Across the gaping dark hole of the grave, Sam’s second-in-command, Sergeant Jody Harris, stood just to the left of Tyler’s family. She met his gaze, determination in her red-rimmed eyes. Whoever had killed Tyler Richardson was going to pay if Jo Harris had anything to say about it.

  Tyler’s mom, Irma, and sister, Clarissa, clutched each other, staring down into the hole as if they still couldn’t believe he was gone. Their tearstained faces registered a dull look of shocked disbelief. Sam could hardly blame them. The reality of Tyler’s death still hadn’t sunk in for him either, and he imagined it was worse for Tyler’s two surviving family members.

  Tyler hadn’t been married and was devoted to Clarissa, who had a degenerative muscular disease. In fact, Sam was surprised she was standing, probably forcing herself to remain on her feet. The wheelchair that she’d had to rely on more and more since Sam had known her sat at the ready behind her.

  Sam’s chest constricted with worry about what would happen to her now. He knew Clarissa needed money for her medical condition. The family was not wealthy, and he knew Tyler spent most of his salary on Clarissa’s care. Too bad they didn’t have a fallen-officers fund. If they had, it would help alleviate some of the financial burden.

  Sam knew Tyler’s family was too proud to accept handouts, but Irma and Clarissa didn’t know there wasn’t a fallen-officers fund, and Sam’s 401k could survive another withdrawal. Besides, he had no intention of ever retiring.

  Sam caught a motion at the periphery of the crowd. Reese Hordon, the department receptionist, had her phone to her ear and was subtly waving to get his attention. The small White Rock police force had shut down the entire department so they could all attend the funeral, but crime didn’t take the day off in order to pay respects to the dead, so Reese had had the calls rerouted to her cell phone just in case.

  And judging by the stricken look on her face, Sam knew that had been a good idea.

  Sam scanned the crowd for Kevin, their part-timer. It was just the three of them now since Reese didn’t do fieldwork because she hadn’t graduated yet from the academy. Kevin must have already seen Reese’s signal and was heading in her direction. Sam caught Jo’s eye and tilted his head toward Reese. Jo nodded.

  Sam trudged over and made his final good-byes to Irma. He held her dry hand and looked into her blank eyes. "We’re going to catch the guy that did this. But in the meantime I’m going to come and call on you. I have a check from the fallen-officers fund."

  Something flickered in her eye. "There’s a fund?" Her voice sounded hopeful.

  Sam nodded. "Any officer shot in the course of duty gets a stipend. I hope it’ll help you get through."

  Sam made hasty good-byes to the other mourners. Like any other small-town police chief, Sam knew just about everybody in town. Couple that with the fact that he’d grown up here, and you might say he knew everyone in Coos County.

  His shoulders slumped as he walked toward the black-and-white Tahoe.

  Reese fell into step beside him, her black trench coat flapping as they walked. Reese had piled her thick jet-black hair on top of her head today, and it made her pale-blue eyes look huge. She’d dressed up to honor Tyler. The tips of her heels sank into the damp ground and threw her slightly off balance as they walked.

  "Got a DB out at the Sacagewassett River," Reese whispered. Her tone was somber, but her step was full of energy. He knew Reese wasn’t cold-hearted, but she had the same enthusiasm for the job that Sam had had when he was young. She hadn’t been hardened by years of seeing people mistreat each other as Sam and Jo had.

  "Any details?" Sam assumed since she’d mentioned the river that the body had been found in the water. He hated floaters. Depending how long they’d been in, it could be quite gruesome. And lots of times they were kids. Sam hoped to hell this one wasn’t a kid.

  Reese shook her head. "I can come along if you need an extra hand." Her eyes flicked toward the gravesite, and then she looked down, probably feeling bad about the implication that she might replace Tyler.

  "Thanks, Reese. Can’t. You have to graduate from the academy before I can send you out in the field."

  Sam reached for the door handle of the Tahoe. It was a little beat up, but their small-town budget couldn’t afford new cars, so they’d bought it used and made a deal with Al Riddell at the body shop to paint it with the police logo. It worked well enough for what they needed.

  A hand fell on his shoulder as he opened the door, and he turned, looking into Jo’s wide gray eyes. They were moist and flecked with concern, but a fire of anger burned deep inside them.

  "Don’t worry. We’re going to catch the guy that did this," she said.

  Sam’s eyes drifted back toward the gravesite. The person that had shot Tyler had run off, and so far they had precious few leads. But Sam was making it a personal mission to bring him to justice. So was Jo.

  "I know. But rig
ht now there’s someone else that needs our help."

  Jo nodded then hopped into the Crown Vic with Kevin. Sam started up the Tahoe and headed toward the river. The loud gunshots from the twenty-one-gun salute rang in his ears as he drove past the wrought-iron gates and out of the cemetery.

  Chapter Two

  Jo must have broken the speed limit on her way to the river, because when Sam emerged from the woods to the side of the river, she was already ankle deep in water and squatting over the body. John Dudley from the county coroner’s office was crouched beside her.

  The body had washed up in the shallow part of the Sacagewassett River. The river was a lazy river that wound its way down from the Canadian border and through town. Since it was early May, the river was high with runoff from the snowy mountains. Some small sections of the river had white water that attracted rafters. Other sections ran slower, better for canoeists. The section that ran along the Rock Ledge campground flowed at a medium pace because the area was wide and shallow.

  Sam figured the body had come from somewhere upstream and gotten caught up on the rocks and branches in this shallow sandbar.

  He splashed across the water, which saturated his newly polished black leather oxfords and wicked up the bottoms of his navy-blue dress uniform pants. They had worn their best uniforms out of respect for Tyler today. Normally, they dressed more casually.

  Sam navigated the slippery rocks, the cold water freezing his ankles. Raising his eyes from the smooth, round stones, he risked a glance north at the mountain range. In the distance, layers of blue mountains, some still with white snow peaks, jutted up into the cloudless blue sky. He inhaled the smell of fresh running water, cleansing his mind before he had to deal with the grim scene before him. The clicking of Kevin’s camera as he recorded the various aspects of the death scene added an oddly mechanical feel to the natural sounds of rushing water and twittering birds.

  Jo moved aside as he approached, giving Sam a full view of the body. Sam felt a mixture of guilt and relief. It wasn’t a kid, but the now-lifeless body was still someone’s child. It was a young woman in her midtwenties. She wore only a pair of thin white cotton undies, and Sam thought she hadn’t been in the river long, judging by the looks of things. Sam guessed about five or six hours.

  "What do you think?" Sam asked.

  Jo squinted up at him. John kept examining the body. Kevin kept snapping pictures. From what he could see of the body, Sam didn’t know if this was an accident or something more sinister. If it was the latter, the water would have washed away key evidence. He hoped it was the former, but the burning in his gut told him otherwise.

  "Hard to tell." John pointed at the side of the head where there was an obvious injury, though the water had washed away the blood that Sam knew would have otherwise been caked in the victim’s hair.

  "She might’ve died from a head wound. Could have slipped and fallen into the water, been knocked unconscious, drowned, and been carried downstream," John said.

  They all looked upstream, where the water was rushing faster. Here, it had slowed down in the spot where the river widened and got curvy. Though the river wasn’t very deep, you could still drown in an inch of water.

  "Foul play?" Sam glanced back at the small crowd that had gathered on the bank just near the campground. People stood with their arms wrapped around themselves, a buzz of anxiety rising from the crowd as they whispered to each other while shuffling from foot to foot.

  This early in the season, the campground wasn’t very crowded. Things didn’t really get rolling up north until after Memorial Day. The way Sam saw it, that could be good and bad. Good because there were fewer people to interview. Bad because there were fewer people that might have seen something that would tell them what happened.

  "Hard to tell." John put a medieval-looking instrument back in the black bag he’d set on top of a rock and then looked up at Sam. "I have to get her back to the morgue and do an autopsy to know for sure."

  Sam nodded. "Sure seems weird that she’s only got her underwear on."

  Jo tilted her head to look at the side of the victim’s skull. "Maybe she went skinny dipping and hit her head."

  "Who wears their underwear skinny dipping?" Sam eyed the gash in her skull. He doubted a fall would cause that amount of damage.

  EMTs had arrived and splashed across the water toward them. John nodded to them, and they unrolled a piece of canvas that they would use to carry the body to the stretcher waiting at the riverbank. As they lifted up the body, someone screamed.

  "Oh my God, it’s Lynn!"

  Jo stood, her eyes narrowing in on the screamer. She was studying her. That was Jo’s area of expertise. Human behavior. Sam, on the other hand, was all about the evidence. He liked to take his time. Turning all the clues over in his mind to find that missing link, the oddity, the thing that gave the killer away. Jo focused on the human side. The way they acted, body language, and what they said and did. Between the two of them, they had a high success rate at catching criminals.

  "Guess we know who to talk to first." Sam glanced back at John. "Are we done here?"

  "Yep."

  "Pictures?" Sam glanced at Kevin, who nodded, indicating he was done taking pictures.

  John started across the river after the EMTs. "I’ll call you with the results."

  Sam, Jo, and Kevin started toward the crowd gathered on the riverbank.

  "Kevin, you get names and phone numbers from everyone. Talk to Ellie and find out if anyone saw anything." Ellie was the campground manager. Sam had known her since he was a teenager. "Jo, you and I will go talk to the screamer. We’ll meet you back at the station later, Kev."

  Sam sucked in a breath and followed Jo toward the group of campers. He hoped to hell the girl in the river had died by accident, but his instincts told him otherwise. And if his instincts were right, one of the people in that group could be a cold-blooded killer.

  Chapter Three

  The screamer, a blonde named Amber Huffman, was huddled with five other people all about the same age. Friends on a camping trip, Sam guessed.

  "Did you know her?" Jo glanced back toward the river.

  Their faces were solemn as they nodded.

  "I think that’s our friend Lynn Palmer," a girl with straight brown hair and a smattering of freckles said between sniffs.

  Jo looked at the group with sympathy. "Are you camping here?"

  "Yeah, back there." A tall guy nodded his head toward the campground.

  "Maybe we should go back there and talk," Jo suggested. She herded them back toward the campground. They walked alongside her in a daze. Sam hung back, watching. They all appeared stunned by the discovery of their friend’s body.

  Jo took out a small pad and pencil and started writing down information, pausing every so often to swat at the swarm of black flies that had decided she’d make a good breakfast. She went through the group, asking their names and addresses, gathering little bits of information. Sam knew she was also studying them like a hawk. Looking for a twitch here or an eye jerk there that would indicate they had something to hide.

  While Jo was asking the pertinent questions, Sam looked around the campsite. It was typical of what you might expect from a camping crowd of people in their early twenties. The equipment was adequate, the same kinds of things Sam would’ve used when he was that age. Canvas tents, Coleman lanterns, and stoves. A blue tarp stretched over each tent indicated these were experienced campers. Anyone who had camped for a few seasons knew you prepared for rain even when no clouds were in sight. Once your camping gear got wet, it never dried out.

  Woodsmoke wafted over from a fire that burned in a ring of circular stones. A pan of burnt eggs sat on top of a grate to the side of the fire. Their breakfast had probably been interrupted when news of a body spread through the campground.

  "And how did you hear that a body had been found?" Jo had finished with the personal information and was starting to ask questions.

  "We were finishi
ng up breakfast." A short redhead named Tara Barrett motioned toward the picnic table where six waterproof lunch bags stood. "I had just finished packing the lunches for our hike today when we heard a big commotion, and someone yelled something about a body. We ran down and…" Her voice trailed off in a sob.

  "Didn’t you notice that Lynn wasn’t here?" Their eyes all flew to a red tent that was situated at the base of a tall scotch pine.

  "We didn’t think much of it." Amber’s eyes darted around to the others. "I mean, she was pretty drunk last night, and I guess we just thought she was sleeping it off."

  She slipped her hand into that of a tall guy—Noah Brickey—and stepped closer to him as if for comfort.

  "That’s right. I was just about to check on her." The brunette, Julie Swan, blew her nose into wadded-up toilet paper she’d ripped from a roll that was sitting on the picnic table. "I never thought she’d be… well, what exactly happened to her?"

  "That’s what we’re going to find out," Jo said. "Did any of you notice anything strange last night? Do you know why she would be in the river?"

  "She probably went swimming," Tara said. "I mean, unless she hooked up with that guy from the bar."

  Sam’s brows shot up. "Guy from the bar?"

  "We went into town last night and drank at some bar." This came from Joshua Moore, who stood next to Tara. Sam figured them for a couple. Noah and Amber were a couple, but the others looked as if they were solo. Which made him wonder, had one of them been with Lynn? Probably not on this trip if she hooked up with a guy from the bar, but maybe one of them was an ex-boyfriend.