by Kit DeCanti
“And he probably has had only one patient die in the last few days,” thought Ron, as he casually replied, “Well, technically that is the way it looks, but we do have some loose ends to tie up.”
Dr. Fleming looked agitated, and glanced ever so briefly towards the retreat, and said, “Alright. But can you follow me back to my other office?” Motioning to his brief case, he added, “I have a staff meeting and I need to get these files to my secretary.”
Ron wondered if one of the files was Heather Williams’, but just nodded in agreement and reluctantly got back into his patrol car.
Ron scowled as he followed the doctor’s black Mercedes down the winding road. This was not exactly how he wanted this interview to go. He would have preferred to continue the discussion back in the parking lot- better yet inside the retreat. He had a hunch that the doc definitely didn’t want him inside there. Remembering the doctor’s nervous glance towards the retreat, Ron also suspected that, at this very moment, there were activities taking place that the doc did not want interrupted.
By the time the two cars reached the Kelseyville office, Dr. Fleming was cool and in total control, and displayed a total willingness to answer questions. He casually told his secretary to postpone the staff meeting, as he handed over a stack of files.
Such a huge change in demeanor caused Ron to wonder why the doctor felt the need to project such a relaxed attitude.
Ron left the interview with Dr. Fleming with more questions than answers. He checked his watch. He had just enough time to get to the campus and question some of Heather’s friends.
This last part was pretty tough. Seems she was a loner, and Ron couldn’t find anyone that considered her a friend.
The only person Ron found that actually had any real relationship with Heather was her roommate, Roslyn. And even that was not a close relationship.
Roslyn had just returned from a short road trip with her family, to find out that her roommate was dead. She didn’t have much to say about Heather, except that she was moody, but seemed happier the last week or so. “It was like she had worked out what was bothering her.” Roslyn also mentioned that Heather had increased her visits to the retreat on Cobb Mountain over the past month by two or three times a week, and since she often stayed over, their paths didn’t cross much.
She added that Heather spoke fondly of Dr. Fleming. Roslyn thought the therapy Heather was getting was helping, but she had nothing to offer as far as Heather’s problems or background. “Heather was pretty closed mouth about her past and family- if she even had any family. She never received personal phone calls or letters.”
Heather Williams was beginning to sound more and more like the typical candidate for suicide.
But still, Ron had his doubts.
CHAPTER THREE
More Clues- More Mysteries
Friday, March 30th, 2007
Sgt. Lenard looked up and locked eyes with Ron, as Ron approached the sergeant’s desk the next morning. Sgt. Lenard was over fifty, overweight and typical of supervisors, not overly pleased with insubordination.
Most supervisors were not overly fond of being second-guessed either; and by the looks of Sgt. Lenard’s red face and bulging veins in his temples, the sergeant was no exception. “I thought I told you the case was closed on that suicide!” he snarled.
Ron was ready for him. “Well, I knew you would want a few things tidied up for your report,” he said thinking he was giving his supervisor the respect he was wanting. “In the process I came up with some interesting things that I thought you’d want to know about this case.” Sgt. Lenard wasn’t buying the snow job. He said he got a call from the High Sheriff Buchanan, who said that Dr. Fleming called him the previous night, and he wasn’t happy about being pulled away from helping his patients to discuss one that it’s too late to help.
Ron guessed by his supervisor’s reaction that he was not on particularly friendly terms with the High Sheriff, and didn’t want to stir anything up unnecessarily.
Ron also knew that Sgt. Lenard had his mind made up concerning this case, and all Ron had to counter it, was a feeling in the pit of his stomach. But his step dad’s advice when he told him of his plans to follow him into law enforcement was to ‘always follow your gut’- and that was just what he planned on doing.
The second set of fingerprints still hadn’t been identified, so Ron decided to push the envelope quickly. The person who had held each of those bottles was obviously not in the legal system. But a match might be found in another system. Some fields of employment require fingerprinting. He was trying not to think of Sgt. Lenard, Sheriff Buchanan or his friend Dr. Fleming when he ordered a broader field of prints to be examined. Ron hoped the results would get back before Sgt. Lenard got wind of it.
No such luck.
Sgt. Lenard was about to read him the riot act over ordering the expanded fingerprint search, when he caught a call from the lab. The computer’s medical database got a hit- one Dr. Richard Fleming. The color briefly drained from Sgt. Lenard’s face, and then he went into the coffee room, motioning for Ron to follow. He stood with his back to Ron for a few moments. Then he said, with his back still to him, “I’m sure the Sheriff would never put friendship before a case, but Dr. Fleming is more than a friend to Sheriff Buchanan. Rumor has it that he pulled the sheriff’s son back from the brink of suicide.”
He turned around and added, “We need to be absolutely certain that Dr. Fleming has something to do with this case before we bring anything to Sheriff Buchanan.” And then as if to throw in a jab, “I’m still not convinced this is more than a suicide, either… but we had better take a closer look.” He sighed and muttered under his breath, “In a small community, someone’s toes are bound to get stepped on- I just hope they’re not mine.”
After a brief hesitation, he said to Ron, “Meet me up at Boggs Mountain in an hour”.
They left a few minutes apart, and met up at the hiking trail parking lot, and walked up the trail without a word.
They stopped at the top of the hill, looking down at the clearing below. Yellow crime tape still surrounded the area where Heather Williams last stood.
“Sad no one’s claimed the body yet,” the Sergeant murmured then sucked in a deep breath and said, “Let’s get busy.” After making plaster of Paris molds of the large footprints, and taking soil samples, they spent the next several hours scouring the area around the trails. They came up with a dozen more unsealed water bottles filled with clear liquid all with the same label as the three found previously. They found several other empty bottles, all of various brands and labels. They collected them as well.
The lawmen painstakingly labeled and bagged each bottle, after noting on a map where each bottle was found.
One last quick look around, and they headed back to the parking lot.
Sgt. Lenard wanted to order fingerprints on the new bottles, along with a lab report on the contents of all the bottles, including the three found previously, but couldn’t without overstepping Sheriff Buchanan’s orders.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, Lenny.” By now they were on friendlier terms and Ron felt comfortable calling him by his nickname. “If you can allow me personal time the rest of the day, I think I can get them. I have some contacts in Sacramento that may be able to help.”
Lenny gave Ron a long look, then nodded and said, “Meet me back at the station and I’ll approve a sick day. Do what you can.”
Ron pulled out his personal cell phone, called his step dad, and made arrangements to meet him with the evidence in Sacramento. Bill Norris had plenty of favors owed to him, and he was happy to call one in for his step son.
Back at the station, Lenny was able to get the tree original bottles out of the department unnoticed; and into a backpack. As he handed them over to Ron he growled: “Get them back here as soon as possible. If they come up missing it could mean your job- and my pension!”
The afternoon ride on Highway 20 was pleasant. Lake County in the
spring is Lake County at its best. Wild flowers painted the landscape with its rolling hills and jagged rocks on one side and beautiful Mt. Konocti rising out of Clear Lake on the other.
Even after leaving the lake area, the beauty continued. Each turn of Highway 2o opened up to a new photo opportunity. The North Fork of Cashe Creek was breaking on the rocks far below, leading the highway to a bridge at the bottom of the canyon valley, where a bald eagle circled the sky above a nearby meadow, watching a large elk herd grazing.
Ron would have stopped for pictures under different circumstances; but today he couldn’t spare the time. His step dad and a lab tech were probably already waiting for him in Sacramento. The lab tech would quickly take fingerprints from the first three bottles and gather samples from the contents. Ron would then head back to Lake County with the original three bottles- leaving the rest of the bottles and foot impressions. If all went according to plan, he’d hand the backpack and bottles back over to Lenny who would get them back in the evidence room before ending his shift. And most importantly- before anyone noticed they were missing.
As Ron was exiting Interstate-5 heading west on Highway 20 back to Lake County, his cell phone rang. It was Lenny suggesting that it would be better to meet away from the station. They arranged to meet at the Rodman Slough parking lot where Ron handed the bag to Lenny who drove off, without so much as a word.
Tired after the long round trip drive, Ron sat there looking out over the slough. A blue heron was perched on the bridge. He wished he could stretch his legs and walk to the bridge and enjoy the beautiful lake and the mirror reflection of Konocti rising out of the water that he knew would be there. He wished he could take a nap. He wished he could unplug this case from his mind. But it had a hold on him.
He took out his note pad and looked over his notes and added more. He jotted down what Lenny said about Dr. Fleming pulling Sheriff Buchanan’s son back from suicide, and decided to follow up on that.
Even though he was tired, he decided to ‘run into the High Sheriff’s son’ off duty. A few calls later and Ron had a pretty good idea where to find John Buchanan on a Friday night.
Happy hour was in full swing when Ron entered the lounge at Konocti Harbor Resort and Spa. Female heads turned as the strikingly good looking, tall young man with an athletic build- the results of his daily work out regime- walked in. Ron scanned the room. But he was not there to meet women.
A member of a famous ‘60s band, whom Ron had heard lived in Lake County, was sitting in the corner surrounded by his entourage. Ron’s dad would get a kick out of hearing about that later. He was a fan.
The bar was full, so Ron found a spot to lean up against the wall and survey the room. A cocktail waitress took his order and he asked if she knew John Buchanan. She replied wistfully, “Who doesn’t?” as she nodded towards the end of the bar.
Ron moved in closer pretending to read celebrity posters that lined the walls. The bar was loud but he could hear enough to figure out which one was John. Ron observed that John seemed to be the center of his own entourage. He also noticed that although the booze was being poured pretty freely all around him, John Buchanan was drinking plain seltzer water. Looking at his dancing eyes, and hearing the laughter emitting from his happy face, Ron had a hard time imagining this good looking, popular young man ever considering suicide- let alone a patient at the Cobb Mountain Retreat.
Tonight was not the right time to try to get next to him, so Ron used the time just listening for anything that might help him make sense of how John ended up in Dr. Fleming’s Retreat. By moving around, Ron was able to go unnoticed by both the group at the end of the bar, and the waitress whose job it was to push drinks. The last thing he needed right now was to loose his ability to think clearly.
He heard John talk about running the following morning and stayed just long enough to hear where. Interesting. It was Boggs Mountain.
The next day was Ron’s day off so he could be there waiting. It was his first Saturday off since he’d been on the job, but he didn’t have anything planned, and no one to do it with; so this would work out fine.
Ron took a step back, preparing to leave and backed into someone. As he spun around to apologize, he found himself looking into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
He seemed to be falling into the deep blue eyes! When he was finally able to swim out, he was only able to stammer, “I… I’m sorry!” to the face, smiling up at him. The blue eyes were twinkling, as if they had a secret joke. Had she meant to bump into him?
Flustered and feeling at a loss for words, along with not wanting to be noticed by John Buchanan; he made his way through the crowd.
Later, when home, Ron updated his notes and then he was finally able to lay his tired head on his pillow. As he drifted off to sleep, the last vision in his head were those blue eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
John Buchanan
Saturday, March 31st, 2007
The morning sun rose to find Ron already in the Boggs Mountain parking lot, stretching, and getting ready for the run. A candy apple red pick up truck pulled up; and the tall good-looking blonde John Buchanan sauntered out grinning; as he approached Ron. Faking a moan he joked, “A fellow fan of early morning torture,” as he joined Ron in stretching.
After some small talk and exchanging first names, the two men began their run.
Although Ron felt that he could have easily left John in the dust, he held back enough to let John take the lead. He wanted to observe John’s reaction as they neared the site where Heather Williams’ body was found.
Sure enough, a look of sadness crept over John’s face. Sadness and something else- but he said nothing.
Ron took advantage of the cool down stretches at the end of the run, to get a bit friendlier by offering personal information concerning his recent move to the area. He told John that he had found a job, a place to rent and was getting to know the area but hadn’t gotten settled all the way in yet. He asked about good restaurants, and nightspots. John told him that he worked at the courthouse, which was nice because it was pretty much bankers’ hours. Worked out great because he coached a soccer team. He had practice every afternoon except Sundays.
“That gives him an alibi for the time of Heather’s death,” thought Ron.
Then Ron boldly asked, “Did you know her?” Puzzled, John asked, “Know who?”
“The girl they found up here. I notice you looked sad back up on the trail.” John just said, “I may have met her once.” He was obviously not going to say more.
Not wanting the conversation to end, Ron guided the conversation in a new direction. He made up a story about missing his fiancée, and how she stayed in Sacramento because of weekly doctor appointments. He wondered about good doctors in the area. John said he had, had the same family doctor his whole life, and although he was good, John knew he was not taking new patients.
Ron came back with, “Well it’s not, actually, a family practitioner that she needs to see.” Then not wanting to be obvious, he quickly added that her current doctor could probably refer someone.
John said, “Yeah, but it’s nice to get a referral from someone who actually knows the doctor. Maybe I can help- what kind of doctor are you needing?”
Ron hesitated; he didn’t want this to blow up in his face. He knew in such a small community John was bound to find out that he worked for his dad. He leaned against his SUV and pretending to be uneasy said, “Well, it’s sorta…well ya see.. with my profession I sorta need to keep it… confidential. I haven’t even mentioned her to anyone. You know- it’s hard to get hired when you have strong ties somewhere else. And with her condition, things are pretty uncertain.”
It would be better if John figured out what it was and offered to give him some information. Ron really didn’t want a referral- just to hear John’s experiences with Dr. Fleming and the retreat. After a moment he stammered that it wasn’t a physical problem.
“She… had a traumatic experience which lead
to… she’s been hospitalized for depression several times. But we both hated the strong medication that came along with most treatment programs. I doubt if we will find a treatment center here, so I guess she’ll be staying in Sac for the time being… I sure miss her! And I worry about her.”
John took the bait. He asked Ron if he had heard of the Cobb Mountain Retreat. “Yeah, I’ve heard about it, but I don’t know much about it- only that it’s pretty far out there.”
John scowled and said defensively, “Yeah, well, people who say that really don’t know… People are always quick to judge what they don’t know about...” Then his expression quickly turned guarded, “I know a lot of people who have really been helped there.” Ron didn’t want to press, but he couldn’t take his time on this lead either. He had to push. “Well, we are pretty desperate; I’d be interested in finding out more.”
John looked at him for a minute, and asked, “What’s her name… your fiancée?”
“Kat,” Ron said quickly. He made a mental note so he would remember the made up name. Then added, “It’s Kathryn, but I call her Kat… She’s pretty private… she wouldn’t be happy with me… talking to anyone about this.” Ron looked away, feigning embarrassment. Then he said, “I need to find out more about this retreat, before I talk to her about it. We’ve been disappointed before, and I don’t want to get her hopes up.”
By the time they made a coffee appointment for midmorning and parted ways, Ron almost believed his emotionally troubled fiancée named Kat was real. “I wish!” he sighed as he drove off. “Well maybe not the emotionally troubled part.” But he would sure like someone to share his life with.
Suddenly he was thinking about the blue eyes from the previous night. He wondered what the name of the owner of those eyes was. He felt like kicking himself for not asking. He wondered if he would ever look into those eyes again. “Was she local? Was she a tourist? Was she single? Was she...”