by L A Dobbs
"Do you happen to know where her phone is?" Jo asked.
Amber shook her head. "No. After you came this afternoon, we all looked all around the site, but none of us found it. It’s the weirdest thing. I know she had one."
"And besides her flirting with Noah at the bar, did you see them together any other time?"
Amber’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean together? They weren’t together. I was with him the whole time."
"What time did you go to bed?" Sam asked.
She thought about it. "It must’ve been around two-thirty, because we left the bar at one, and we weren’t up much longer."
"And you went into the tent at the same time as Noah?"
"Yeah. Of course I did."
"And you were both in there the whole time after that?"
Her eyes flicked to the window. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course. I was with Noah all night, so he couldn’t have killed her, if that’s what you’re getting at."
"Is there anything else? Any idea who might have done this? Did you notice anything odd maybe the day before when you were in town or that night at the bar?" Sam asked.
Amber narrowed her eyes as she thought. "I don’t know if I would say this was necessarily odd, but Lynn acted kind of strange when we were planning the trip."
"How so?"
"We talked about different places to go camping, but she insisted we come here. And the day she died, we all went downtown for groceries. She suggested we split up and do some shopping. You know, check out the local shops and stuff. It was all kind of spur of the moment and casual." Amber leaned forward in the chair, her face animated, as if she was suddenly realizing what she was saying could be important. "But Lynn wasn’t acting very casual. She was acting like she had an appointment, and when Julie, Tara and I came out of the secondhand store, Lynn was nowhere to be found."
Chapter Nineteen
After Amber left, Sam and Jo took a break and headed for the coffee maker. Jo had finished her cup during the interview with Noah, and her brain was begging for the sharp tang of caffeine. It was also begging for a jelly donut, but there were none in the station.
Sam let her go first. She leaned her shoulder against the wall, her finger tapping on the mug as she watched him pop his orange K-Cup in and slide the dark-blue police-insignia mug underneath. Jo went back over the interviews in her brain while she waited for his cup to fill.
During the interviews, she’d studied both Noah and Amber for the little "tells" that would indicate they were lying. A twitch here, a furtive glance there. They both hadn’t been straight about something.
"I don’t think either one of them was being straight with us," Jo said.
Sam opened a packet of sugar and poured it into his coffee. "And what was that bit about the meeting? Do you think Lynn really had a meeting, or was Amber lying about that?"
"Why would she make that up?"
"And why did Lynn insist they camp here? Do you think Amber made that up to try to throw off suspicion? To make us think she had a local connection to who killed her?"
"Maybe she did have a local connection. This is where her cell phone would help tremendously. I hope Kevin finds it."
"Reese’s got the paperwork to subpoena Verizon for her phone records, but that could take a while. At least Dupont won’t try to block that."
"The way he’s been hounding us, he’ll probably rush it through, but what they have on the servers might not include what we need. Not everything is stored. Having the phone would be best."
The door opened, and Kevin came in, heading straight for the coffee maker. "Thank God, coffee."
Jo noticed he was empty handed. "You didn’t find her cell phone?"
Kevin pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Afraid not. I looked all over that area and didn’t find a thing except dirt, leaves, and rocks."
"Hey, guys, I hate to interrupt, but a bunch of calls came in when you were taking those statements." Reese, who had just come in through the front door, picked up several pink slips of paper off her desk and waved them in the air.
"What have you got?" Sam asked.
She looked at the slips. "Stolen pickles at the general store—Arty’s holding the culprit for you. Joan Freemont called to complain about a fight between Nettie Deardorff and Rita Hoelscher." She looked up at them over the slips. "Said it was getting violent. And there’s been a disturbance reported over at the Rock Ledge campground."
Jo’s brows shot up, and she looked at Sam. "You think that has something to do with our case?"
Sam had already put the mug down and was heading for the door. "I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. The other calls are urgent too. Jo, you take the general store, and Kevin, you go see what’s up with Rita and Nettie. Everybody radio in when you’re done."
Kevin got into his Isuzu and headed out to Prospect Hill, where Joan Freemont lived. He wouldn’t mind having to drive his own car all the time if he didn’t always get stuck with all the crappy jobs. But that had always been the way.
Jo, Sam, and Tyler had always taken all the good calls, and Kevin had gotten the scraps. He was always the one that had to decorate the big tree in the green at Christmas, risking his life on the rickety ladder and going home full of pine pitch and needles. And he always got stuck with traffic duty on the Fourth of July. Not to mention how they always seemed to saddle him with picking up the drunk and disorderlies, who would puke all over him. At least they let him drive the Crown Vic with the screen between the front and back seats on those calls.
Of course, being the one to get the crappy calls did have a lot to do with him being the only part-timer, and by the time he came on shift, that was mostly what was left. Because the important stuff was usually the most urgent.
Still, it wasn’t just the calls. It was the way the three of them had treated him. Like he wasn’t a real part of the team. Maybe if they’d treated him like he belonged, then he wouldn’t have done what he had earlier that year.
Thoughts of what he had done sent a jolt of anxiety through him. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to think that Sam and Jo didn’t see him as their equal.
When Sam had offered him the full-time position this morning, he’d been surprised. He’d thought they didn’t want him, but now… well, it was too late. He’d already formed his alliances, and now that he had, he didn’t need that full-time pay. Maybe Sam and Jo should have started treating him better before Tyler died.
Thoughts of Tyler’s death brought on another jolt of anxiety. He sure hoped the few bits of information he’d passed along didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Tyler. But if it had, that was because Tyler had been up to something bad. And if Tyler had been breaking the law, then Kevin had done the right thing, hadn’t he?
Kevin wanted to believe he had, but doubts swirled in his mind like a flock of vultures. What if he’d acted too hastily? His father had always told him he was too quick to leap before he looked.
It couldn’t have been his fault—Tyler had been killed by a crazy auto thief—that had nothing to do with the information Kevin had been asked to look for. And, besides, he hadn’t found anything worth passing on. Not even after volunteering to clean out Tyler’s desk. No photos. No notes. Nothing.
After that, Kevin had thought his little task for The Big Guy was done, but the other day, he’d been summoned to the meeting place behind Lago, and the note he’d gotten said otherwise. He didn’t know if he could keep trying to dig up bits of information without blowing his cover.
Jo had sounded suspicious when she’d asked if he’d lunched at Lago. He’d panicked and said no, and now he realized that had been a big mistake. Her desk window faced that side of the street, and she’d probably seen him. The last thing he wanted was for Sam or Jo to find out what he’d done. He should have told her he was visiting his cousin who worked there. That part was true. He just didn’t need to tell her the part about the note with the instructions he’d pocketed during the
quick meeting behind the restaurant.
As he came to the crest of the hill, he saw Joan Freemont standing in Nettie Deardorff’s front yard. She was wearing a pink bathrobe, her arms crossed over her chest. Nettie and Rita Hoelscher were standing on either side of the white picket fence that divided their yards, yelling at each other. Nettie raised her index finger and wagged it in Rita’s face. Rita grabbed it and twisted.
The goat—what was its name? Betty or Bessy?—hopped around at Rita’s feet, stopping every few seconds to nibble on her long brown skirt.
Kevin parked on the side of the street. He really did hate these calls. So what if Sam had rescued a cat from a tree and Jo had handled the dispute at the Laundromat the other night? The truth was that he was the one that got them the most.
If he had accepted the full-time job, would things be different? They’d hire another part-timer, and maybe the new guy would get all the crappy calls. But then Kevin would be working full time with Sam and Jo, and he wasn’t sure he’d fit in. He just didn’t click with them.
He didn’t need the money, anyway. He patted the note that was still in his pocket. Not now that he had this little side job. The side job was easy. All he had to do was keep his eyes and ears open and report back specific pieces of information. It paid more than a full-time police salary, and he was still helping to serve justice in some way. Or at least that was what he told himself.
He got out of the car and headed toward the old ladies, the note crinkling ominously in his pocket as he crossed the street.
Chapter Twenty
Sam would have preferred to talk to the rest of the campers right after Noah and Amber, but the three disturbance calls that had come in were of an urgent nature and took precedence.
Then again, letting Amber and Noah report back to the others so they could all stew about it overnight could work in their favor. Might make the killer nervous. And nervous killers were bound to screw up.
Too bad the interviews had only left Sam with more questions. Maybe this disturbance at the campground would answer some of those questions.
He careened into the main parking lot, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Ellie ran out to meet him.
"There’s a dog running loose down by the river, barking and making all kinds of ruckus. It’s scaring the kids, and the campers are complaining."
Sam’s stomach sank. Lucy? Hopefully she hadn’t found another body in the river.
He headed toward the river. Sure enough, Lucy was there at the bank, barking and pacing. When she saw him, she stopped and ran over to him.
Sam crouched down to her level and patted her neck, his eyes scanning the water. No body. "I guess you ran away again? Don’t like the accommodations at the pound?"
"Woof!"
Lucy swung around and splashed back into the water then looked back at Sam as if wanting him to follow.
"You want to swim? You’re gonna ruin all that nice work they did on your fur."
Lucy did a half spin then planted her feet in front of her, those whiskey eyes demanding his attention. She barked again, this time low and insistent. She stuck her nose in the water then jerked it out, flinging drops around. She looked back at Sam as if she were hoping he wasn’t too stupid to get the message.
Sam splashed out to her. This was the rocky part of the river, and the water was only about five inches deep. At least this time he didn’t have his dress shoes on; his solid black boots were already in pretty bad shape.
The river was crystal clear. You could see every rock and grain of sand. In the slower-running sections, you could see tiny baby fish when the sunlight slanted in at just the right angle.
Lucy had her eyes fixed on a large gray rock. It was flat on the top, and something dark that wasn’t a rock or sand or anything natural looked to be wedged underneath it.
Sam reached into the freezing-cold water, pried the rock up, grabbed the thing underneath it, and pulled it out.
It was a cell phone.
Sam handled the cell phone gingerly, trying not to touch too much of it even though he knew the water had already washed off any fingerprints or DNA evidence. He wasn’t even sure it was Lynn’s or that anything could be recovered from it.
He rummaged an evidence bag out of the crime scene kit in the back of the Tahoe and slipped the phone into it. Lucy sat at his heels, looking up as if awaiting his praise.
"Yes, you did a good job. Seems like you’ve got quite a nose for police work."
Lucy gazed up at him. She looked happy. Her face almost looked as if she were smiling. Her thick, furry tail swished back and forth excitedly.
"But I can’t keep you."
Lucy still looked happy, but her tail swishing slowed down.
"If you’re hungry, maybe I could get you a burger."
Her tail swishing sped up again.
Sam hated the idea of taking the dog back to the shelter. What did they even feed them in there? Probably some kind of generic kibble. The least he could do was get her a burger at Spirits. Maybe one of the specialty burgers.
Sam wondered what kinds of add-ons dogs liked. Hadn’t he heard that some "people" food was toxic for them? Better to get her a plain burger or maybe that pot roast from the diner that she liked.
Sam opened the tailgate. "Okay, get in."
Lucy hopped in and immediately trotted up front to the passenger seat, leaving a trail of wet, sandy footprints along the way.
Sam just shook his head and smiled. The fur on Lucy’s legs and belly was soaked from being in the river, and the passenger seat would be all wet. That was Jo’s problem, though. She was the only one that ever sat there.
He was just pulling out of the campground when the police radio in the car crackled. It was Reese. "Sam, I just got a call in. There is a disturbance down at Holy Spirits. Fight in progress, and it looks like a bad one."
Sam flipped on the siren and stepped on the gas.
The inside of Holy Spirits looked as if a tornado had ripped through it. It smelled of beer, sweat, and anger. The air buzzed with excitement.
One table was overturned, three chairs lay on their sides, and the bar patrons were standing in a circle. Two large men stood in the middle. Judging by the swollen lip on one and the shiner already making an appearance on the other, Sam knew they’d already been fighting for a while.
"Break it up! White Rock Police!" Sam pushed his way through the crowd, holding out his badge. There was no need for the badge—everyone in the bar knew him. Especially the two men fighting.
Jerry Vetter and Ed Clough hated each other. It was all because of Lily Simmons. She’d been dating Ed when Jerry caught her eye five years ago when they were seniors in high school. Lily and Jerry were married now.
You’d think Ed would’ve gotten over it by now, but occasionally, he started it up with Jerry all over again. Typically in the bar after a few beers. It usually only amounted to a few black eyes and sometimes broken fingers. But Sam had to stop the fight just the same.
"He’s got this coming, Chief." Ed addressed Sam but kept his eyes on Jerry.
"Come on, Ed. You know fighting never solves anything. All it does is get you with some doctor bills." Sam’s tone was casual, but his body was tense, waiting to take action if the fighting got bad. Sometimes he let them throw a few punches and get it out of their system. If things got too rough, he’d have to jump in.
"Bastard ruined my life." Ed swung again, his fist connecting with Jerry’s chin.
Jerry’s face jerked to the right. Spittle and flecks of blood flew outward. The crowd jumped back.
Jerry turned toward Ed, anger gleaming in his eyes. He punched Ed first in the stomach, then the chin. Ed staggered back then whirled around, picking up one of the chairs and holding it over his head.
Sam jumped in between them, holding his hand out. "You don’t want to do that, Ed. Willful destruction of property. Billie might sue you."
Ed swung the chair anyway. Sam barreled into him, disrupting the force of the blow
. The chair grazed painfully off his shoulder and smashed to the floor, one leg cracking loudly as it splintered off from the bottom of the seat.
Ed turned his anger on Sam. "What’d you do that for? I need to finish this guy off once and for all."
"This isn’t the way to settle things." Sam put his hand gently on Ed’s arm in an attempt to calm him.
Ed pulled back his fist. Apparently, he’d forgotten that his beef was with Jerry and was going to continue to lash out at anyone in front of him. Even Sam.
"Don’t do it, Ed. Assaulting an officer of the law isn’t something you want to get into."
The words made Ed hesitate for a second, then he crouched down and rushed Sam, barreling shoulder first into his stomach and knocking him to the floor. Before Sam knew what had happened, the two of them were rolling around on the floor, fists flying.
Sam was a good fighter, but Ed must’ve been taking lessons. He got Sam into a stranglehold, increasing the force on his windpipe. Sam smelled stale beer and cigar smoke on his hot breath.
"Hey, Ed, cut that out. That’s the chief." This was Jerry’s voice, ironically.
Sam kicked back, connecting with Ed’s shin. Ed loosened his grip slightly, just enough to allow Sam to break free.
Sam spun around in time to see Ed stagger back a few steps. Then Ed pulled a fist. Sam got ready to dodge. He didn’t want to hit Ed if he didn’t have to. Even though he was within his right to break up a fight, it was better if you didn’t have to leave a mark on someone. You never knew when the public would believe a claim of police brutality. He just hoped Ed would tire out before Sam had to hurt him in order to get him to stop.
Sam didn’t have to worry about that for long. A hulking figure stepped in between them, brought up his fist, and popped Ed right in the face, sending him crumbling to the floor.
Mick Gervasi turned to face Sam, a grin spreading on his face. "You gotta work on your street-fighting skills, Chief. I can’t always be around to get you out of trouble."