“Nice. That will help when we get J.B. into the box. If Cullen's mother is involved, he'll be more likely to flip on her, try to deal for a lesser sentence.”
“Yeah. I don't think that we'll ever get connect her with the death of Gwen's dad, though. Officer Taylor said that what probably caused the accident was a leak in the power steering. When they reconstructed the accident, it looked like her dad was rounding a sharp turn when the power steering went out. He swung the wheel too hard as a result, over-corrected, and went off the road into the trees. They found a puncture in one of the hoses that had caused the fluid to leak, but it looked like it could have occurred naturally. And since it was an older car, it didn't have an indicator light to warn him that there was a problem.”
Rafe nodded thoughtfully. “And he wouldn't have spotted any fluid on the garage floor, because according to Cullen's letter, Monieque washed off and hosed down the garage floor every day that week. And without any other evidence pointing to foul play, there's not nearly enough to charge her. Any good defense attorney would have the case thrown out within an hour. But if we can connect her to Cullen's death, prove that his suspicions were correct, it might be enough for Ellanor Torrense to get an exhumation order for Cullen's father. If poison is found when they do the autopsy, it'll be hard for Monieque to wiggle out of that one.”
They were both silent for a minute or two, then Dawn said, “I'd like to do some more research on the Preisinger case. I can use my phone to link up and look for any other missing person reports or incidents that seem to fit. There are more out there than the ones we turned up, Rafe. I can feel it.”
“Yeah, I think you're right about that.” Pulling out his tablet, he said, “While you do that, I'll get caught up on some of the reports and other paperwork. Might as well make the best use of our time.”
By the time the jet touched down in Burlington, Rafe had waded through a considerable amount of paperwork, but Dawn had had no luck in finding additional cases that had possible connections to the Preisinger case. Philosophically, she put her phone aside, said goodbye to her husband, and got off the plane with Rafe. Since they had arranged for the rental car in advance, they were soon seated in it and on their way to the home of Alissa Gordena's mother in the small town of Black Line, Vermont.
Miranda Gordena looked like she hadn't slept in years, Dawn thought. She had been extremely cooperative, though, inviting them in right away and offering them coffee. They had the Vermont State Police to thank for that. The detective who had handled the Gordena case had been unable to join them, due to a bad bout of the flu, but he had cleared the way for them with Mrs. Gordena. Dawn and Rafe had accepted her offer of coffee more to put the poor woman at ease than for any other reason. Deep lines of worry marred her face, and her hands moved nervously as she spoke. Making coffee seemed to steady her, however, and she answered all of their questions eagerly. Anything, she'd said, to help find out what had happened to her daughter.
They chatted at first, trying to get a feel for Alissa, for the family, for the time period leading up to the point when Alissa and her boyfriend had gone missing. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Miranda insisted. Alissa had been her normal, happy self. No, they hadn't noticed anyone paying any unusual attention to her.
“What about boyfriends, Mrs. Gordena?” Dawn asked.
The tired eyes became dewy as Alissa's mother fought back the tears. “Lissa was very popular. Always. Even in grade school, she always had a boyfriend.” She paused for a minute, took a sip of tea. “Let's see. There was Paul, of course. He took Lissa to her eighth grade dance. After that, it was Jamie. Then Drake, then Kirk. Last couple of years of high school, though, she went out pretty steadily with Mel Eamont. She only broke up with him when she went to college. After she met Breckon. Breckon Petteril. The one who...”
She grabbed a tissue, wiped her eyes. Cleared her throat.
Dawn gave her a moment to compose herself, then asked, “What about artists, Mrs. Gordena? Any of the guys in her life have an artistic bent?”
“Oh, dear, not that I know of. I mean, Mel Eamont's main passion in life was basketball. He played all the way through high school. He's in graduate school now, studying to be a lawyer. I ran into his mother just last week. She's been very kind to me, since I lost Lissa. So naturally I asked her about Mel."
“And the others?”
“Jamie moved away. That must have been three years ago now. Last I heard, Drake and Kirk were at some college in Florida, majoring in girls and surfing. Paul stayed closer to home. He got a degree in computer science and started his own business, which is doing quite well, I understand. No, I wouldn't describe anyone that Lissa ever went out with as an artist.”
She had been back in the past for a while, remembering Alissa in grade school, in high school. But now reality intruded on her pleasant memories. She said wistfully, “The first few years after it happened, I always hoped. Maybe they'd run away together or something. Even though there was no reason for them to. But then, when they found Breckon's remains last summer... I knew she was gone.”
Her voice broke again, and this time she couldn't hold back the tears. Dawn reached out and took Mrs. Gordena's hand, silently offering comfort. Miranda looked deep into Dawn's eyes for a moment. Then she murmured, “You know, don't you? You know what it's like to lose someone you love.”
Dawn inclined her head, and that was enough. Miranda clasped her hand even more tightly and said, “Detective, what happened to my Lissa? Why have you and Sergeant Melbourne come here all the way from Colorado to ask me about her?”
Dawn exchanged a look with Rafe. Then she responded, “Mrs. Gordena, what we tell you can't be repeated to the press.”
Miranda's eyes flashed. “Bunch of vultures!” she exclaimed. “Especially after they found Breckon. 'Mrs. Gordena'," she mimicked, "'How do you feel?' Mother of God! How did they think I felt? The body of my daughter's boyfriend had just been found. Didn't they know how painful that was for me? It was the death of all my hopes. They kept after me even when I refused to talk to them, hoping to parade my grief all over the news. No, you can rest assured that anything you tell me won't find its way into the press.”
“Okay, then.” Dawn took a deep breath. “Mrs. Gordena, there's a chance that a connection exists between your daughter's disappearance and a case that Sergeant Melbourne and I are currently investigating in Colorado.”
It took Miranda only a moment to grasp the implications of what Dawn had said.
“You don't think it was an accident. You think my daughter –and Breckon– were killed,” she said flatly.
“We can't tell you much more, Mrs. Gordena, because the investigation is still ongoing. But that possibility exists, certainly.”
Miranda groped for and clasped Dawn's hand again. “Find him! Find whoever took my Lissa away from me! Promise me you'll find him!”
Dawn thought of Naomi Preisinger, sitting at her son's bedside in Mountpelier.
“We'll find him, Mrs. Gordena. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, we'll find him.”
Rafe was quiet as he got into the driver's side of the car they had rented in Burlington, but Dawn knew that he wasn't pleased with the assurances she had made to Alissa's mother.
“Rafe? She needed that. She needed to know that we care about what happened to Alissa.”
Rafe didn't look at her as he turned the key in the ignition and concentrated on pulling away from the curb in front of the Gordena residence. “You may not be able to keep your promise to her, Dawn. It's early days yet. We don't even know for sure that the two cases are connected. And it isn't our case.”
“I know, I know. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. But I have a feeling, Rafe. A feeling that we're about to bust this thing wide open.” She broke off as her cell phone signaled her and took a moment to look at the incoming text. “It's Ty.”
“Is he back from Trenton already?”
“No, but he's leaving shortly. It won't take
him long. It's a short flight.”
Something in her tone made Rafe say, “Problem?”
Dawn replied, “No – there's no problem. It's just – Ty texted that he needs a favor. He didn't go into the details, but he wants us to 'play along' when we get back to the plane.”
“Does this have something to do with that old friend he was planning to meet?”
“I'm not sure. He's been close-mouthed about Brody, but I've been getting a feeling lately that something is wrong. I guess we'll find out when we get back to Burlington.”
*****
It was a good thing, Ty reflected, that he had some buddies who were currently stationed nearby at McGuire Air Force Base. Getting an unconscious friend who topped out at 6'7 and weighed 230 pounds into the cabin of the six-passenger jet he'd flown east from Colorado was definitely not a one-man job. With his buddies' help, however, he had achieved the task, and was now airborne and back on his way to pick up Dawn and Rafe in Vermont.
He wondered what Dawn would make of Brody. Though Ty had told her about his friend, and she had some inclination about the deep bond that existed between them, she had never met Brody. His latest assignment for the shadow agency he worked for had required him to work deep undercover for an extended period of time. Ty himself had not even heard from Brody for almost a year until he'd received a phone call a few days ago. Though Brody hadn't said much, Ty knew him well enough to sense that something was wrong. Very wrong. Under the circumstances, he'd decided that it would be a good idea to drop in for an unannounced visit. What he'd discovered during his visit had confirmed his suspicions that all was not well with his friend. So he'd arranged for Brody to take a little vacation. An impromptu little jaunt to Colorado. And if Tyrell Lewellen had anything to say about it, the next stop on Brody's vacation itinerary would involve a trip to Mountpelier General Hospital.
Dawn and Rafe were already on the ground and waiting when he touched down in Burlington. When they climbed aboard and saw the unconscious man strapped into one of the passenger seats, Dawn barely even raised an eyebrow.
“Brody?” she said.
“Yeah. He told me that he needed a change of scenery, so I suggested that he come and visit us in Colorado for a while. He's really looking forward to it.”
A snore from Brody punctuated Ty's last comment.
“Yep. I can see that.”
Rafe had kept quiet during this exchange, but a grin as wide as the Grand Canyon split his face. He wisely didn't say anything, but strapped himself into his own seat. Dawn, however, moved forward and strapped herself into the co-pilot's seat next to Ty.
“It looks like it's going to be a mighty interesting visit,” she said.
Ty just grinned.
When they arrived at the duplex, with the help of Rafe and the men from the Lewellen Security detail who were assigned to Ty that day, they managed to get Brody inside and down the steps to the guest room off the recreation area on the ground floor. It was easier to carry him down than up, they reasoned. Besides that, the couch down there would provide Ty with a comfortable place to spend the night, since he really, really needed to be close at hand when Brody woke up in the morning. Simply to convey a few minor pieces of information to his friend, of course - like where he was, for example, and just how it had come about that he had gone to sleep in New Jersey and ended up as a temporary resident of the beautiful state of Colorado. After he'd explained everything sufficiently, Ty figured it would probably be a good idea to relocate to another area of the house for a while – just to give the big guy some time to think it over. And if he could pull off a speedy enough exit, he might just get away with only a few bumps and bruises...
Once Brody was bestowed in the guest room, Ty felt that he'd earned a reward for his efforts, so he determined that spending some time kicking back and watching sports on his big screen TV was in order. Walking over to the refrigerator behind the bar, he pulled out a beer and settled himself into his favorite leather recliner. He heard Traitor padding down the steps and watched as she flopped herself down at his feet, panting and looking up at him pleadingly.
“You already had your treat today. Mrs. T. always gives you one after dinner. What makes you think you're going to get another one out of me?”
“The fact that you are putty in her hands might have something to do with it. She knows that sooner or later, you always give in,” Dawn commented. Ty had filled her in a little on the plane, so she knew why he had decided to spirit Brody out of New Jersey and bring him home with them. Once she'd understood the circumstances, she made no demur, but simply said, “You're a good friend, Ty.”
She made no move to sit down and join him, so he asked, “Want a beer?”
Dawn shook her head. That didn't surprise him, as Dawn tended to go for wine or cocktails rather than beer. But her eyes took on an intent look as she gazed at him sitting relaxed in his chair, sipping from his bottle of beer.
“Did you and Rafe accomplish what you set out to do today?” Ty asked.
She nodded absently, then wandered over to the refrigerator, looked in briefly, and commented, “They're all the same brand.”
“What?”
“The beer bottles. You have about three dozen in there. And they're all the same brand.”
“Sure. It's my favorite.”
“So if you were going on a camping trip, you'd just get a cooler and pull out as many as you thought you needed for the trip,” she said thoughtfully. “You wouldn't even need to stop at a store.”
Ty looked at her thoughtfully. “What's this all about, Dawn?”
A frown creased Dawn's brow. Technically, she shouldn't talk to Ty about an ongoing investigation, but this was different. He already knew far more about the case than the average civilian did. And she knew she could trust him not to disclose any of the details of the investigation.
“I think he's from Vermont.”
“The guy you're after? Why?”
“We found three other cases we think are tied to ours. At two of the scenes, one in Alaska and the one here in Colorado, some beer bottles were found. Same brand. Black Line.”
Ty frowned. “Never heard of it.”
“Neither had I. Turns out that it's bottled by a brewery in the town where one of the victims lived. Rafe and I stopped by and visited it on our way back to Burlington. It's a small outfit, Ty, with a limited production each year. Turns out that it's sold primarily in Vermont and a couple of its neighboring states. They don't have the capacity to branch out any farther than that.”
“It does sound like it's unlikely to be a coincidence,” Ty said thoughtfully. “But you never know. Brand loyalty is a funny thing. It's not outside the realm of possibility that two guys, one from Alaska and one from Colorado, visited up there and liked the beer so much that they brought back a stash of it. Or it could have been a gift from a friend.”
“A friend,” Dawn mused. Then she got to her feet. “I have to talk to Carl Brassner again.”
“Who's Carl Brassner?”
“Will Preisinger's roommate.”
She could have spoken to him on the phone, but Dawn felt she got better information when she could talk to a witness face-to-face. She texted Rafe on the way over to Will and Carl's apartment, letting him know that she was following up on her latest hunch. He didn't text her back right away, so she went up to the apartment alone.
She had let Carl know that she was coming in advance, so she was not surprised when he opened the door right away. “Detective Cimarron? What's this all about?”
Dawn walked right over to the refrigerator and gestured toward it. “Mind if I take a look inside?”
“Uh, well...”
“If you have anything in there that you technically shouldn't at your age, I'm not going to make an issue out of it. I just need to confirm a hunch.”
“Okay – go ahead.”
When she opened the door of the refrigerator and looked in, Dawn immediately spotted the beer bottles. Taking one out,
she looked at the label. Not Black Line, she observed with satisfaction. Turning to Carl, she questioned, “Yours?”
“Uh, no – that's Will's. I don't really care for beer. I'm more into... " His voice trailed off when he recalled just who it was he was speaking to.
Dawn looked at the label again and said thoughtfully, “This is a lager. That's a dark beer, right?”
“Yeah, Will’s kind of a snob about beer. He only drinks lagers. He says that the other types are crap – not real beer.”
“But none of these types of bottles were found at the campsite.”
“No - Will is kind of funny about that. He doesn’t believe in drinking when he goes camping. Says it’s foolish. You have to keep your wits about you any time you’re out in the woods, he always says. Never know what you might run into.”
Dawn thought for a moment and said, “Neither you nor Will is old enough to legally buy beer.”
Carl stared down at his feet as he replied, “Some of Will's friends are old enough.”
Dawn put the bottle back in the refrigerator and shut the door. “Thank you, Carl. You've been a big help.”
“Really? You think this might help you to find out who tried to kill Will and took his girl?”
“Maybe. Only time will tell, though. What's the latest news on Will's condition?”
Carl shrugged. “Not much change, unfortunately. I was going to stay at the hospital tonight, but Will's mom told me to go home and get some sleep.”
Dawn paused as she reached the door. Here was someone else who was trying to be a good friend. “Mrs. Preisinger gave you some good advice, Carl. Take care of yourself. You'll be in better shape to help support Will and his mother that way.” She reached out and gripped his hand for a moment, then made her way out of the apartment and down to her car.
When the Tiger Kills Page 11