by Lauren Carr
“There you have it,” Tracy said. “This Bea Miller did it.”
“I haven’t met Bea Miller,” J.J. said, “but she sounds like a fruitcake. Would she have gone to the trouble of framing Derek and dumping the body at the Newhart farm?”
“We’ll find out,” Cameron said. “I’ll try tracking her down tomorrow to question her.”
“If Kathleen realized her husband was not traveling for work, then it’d be natural for her to follow him, or have him followed, to find out where he was going,” Joshua said. “From the looks of it, he’d drive his car to the apartment, change clothes, cell phone, and vehicle, and then assume the other identity. It would have been easy enough for either Sherry or Kathleen to figure it out.”
“Ellison’s place is not an easy place to find,” Cameron said.
“Which means that not only did the killer know about Ellison’s threats against Davis, but where he lived,” Joshua said. “Unless you can find a way for Miller to get access to that information, I’d say that eliminates her as a suspect.”
“Cam, you’re going to have to tell the prosecutor about these developments,” J.J. said, “because I’m going to have to move to dismiss the charges against Ellison.”
“Are you saying you’ve cleared Derek Ellison for the murder?” Tracy asked, startling them with the reminder that she was still on the phone.
“We can’t place him at the crime scene,” Cameron said.
“There’s a ton of reasonable doubt, Tracy,” J.J. said. “We can’t allow the prosecution to move forward with the case.”
“Sanders will not be happy,” Joshua said. “She was looking for a slam dunk for a high-profile murder going into an election.”
“I guess that means your first murder case was a winner. Congrats, J.J.” Stating that she needed to clean up the kitchen and had an early meeting with a client in the morning, Tracy disconnected the call.
J.J. rose from his seat. “Well, it was fun.”
Cameron and Joshua blocked his exit from the study. “There’s still the matter of finding out who killed John Davis slash Shawn Whitaker slash Bishop Moore,” she said.
“You’re a homicide detective,” J.J. said. “Investigate.”
“Don’t tell me you aren’t curious yourself,” Joshua said. “A man leading a triple life, two wives, two families.”
“I’m getting married in less than two months. I’m renovating a mansion, mostly by myself. I’ve got stuff to do.” J.J. gestured at Cameron. “She’s the lead detective in this case.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I’m the lead detective. That means that as soon as I show up with my badge and gun, everyone throws up walls and shuts up.” She smiled at him. “Whereas you were very close to both families—”
“If I was so close, how is it that I didn’t notice that my two girlfriends had the same father?”
“He’s got a point,” Joshua said.
“J.J., I know that as soon as it does come out, which it will, that Kathleen Davis and Sherry Whitaker were married to the same man, they are both going to claim they had no idea,” Cameron said. “Whether they are guilty or not of murder, no one will claim to have known or noticed anything. But with you having a relationship with both Heather and Madison—”
“Today was the first day that I’ve even seen Heather or Madison since my high school graduation.”
“From the way Madison looked at you,” she said, “I think she’d be more than open to catching up on old times.”
“I’m getting married.”
“That’s right,” Joshua said. “And at practically every wedding, the bride and groom celebrate their first dance as a married couple. Have you and Poppy ever danced?”
“No, but that’s okay. I know how to dance. If Poppy doesn’t—”
“Nowadays, it’s a big show,” Cameron said. “I hear a lot of couples pay to have their first dance choreographed.”
“You know, Cam, that’s not a bad idea,” Joshua said. “I hear there’s a new dance studio in Beaver Falls.”
“It’s a wedding reception,” J.J. said, “not a Broadway musical.”
“Madison owns a dance studio,” Cameron said. “She’s Shawn Whitaker’s daughter. If you and Poppy take private lessons from her, and being an old boyfriend—”
“That will be so awkward,” J.J. said. “Me and my fiancé taking dance lessons from my old girlfriend?”
“All you need to find out is if Madison’s mother knew about her husband’s double life,” Joshua said. “You’re the best one to find out since you’re an old friend of the family. If Cameron goes in to question them, they’ll immediately put up road blocks. But you?” He chuckled with a wide grin.
“With Poppy in the same room?” J.J. asked. “She’ll never go for it.”
“We’re not telling you to sleep with them,” Joshua said. “Son, when I was married to your mother and working for military intelligence, I used my charm on women to get information all the time. It was one of those tools in my belt.”
J.J. shook his head. “I’m not the same heel I was back then. And what about Poppy?”
“Be up front with Poppy,” Joshua said. “I was with your mother.”
“She trusts you,” Cameron said. “Besides, enough time has passed. You’ve moved on. Maybe they have, in which case all you have to do is be friendly with them—get close. Pay your respect to the families and keep your eyes open to see what their mothers knew when.”
“Do you really think their mothers were capable of murder?”
“Our witness heard two women fighting with Davis in his apartment in Calcutta the night he was killed,” Joshua said. “It had to be them. Just be your old charming self and Madison will be putty in your hands.”
“The last time I was charming, I ended up with broken ribs.”
Chapter Eleven
“The murder weapon was in the defendant’s possession. It had his fingerprints all over it. He threatened the victim and had no alibi. Plus, he threatened the detectives with the same knife when they arrived to question him.”
Cameron could tell by the set of Seth Booker’s jaw, that he was not going to let go of the bone he had been given in the form of what promised to be a high-profile murder case. John Davis, the model husband, father, and grandfather, had been struck down by his drug-crazed son-in-law. It was a senseless crime that promised a lot of press, which in turn promised a lot for Seth’s political goals.
Prosecutor Nancy Sanders peered over the top of her reading glasses at Cameron Gates.
“We’ve identified the crime scene,” Cameron said, “and there is no evidence placing the defendant at the scene.”
“Because he cleaned it up,” Seth said.
“Did you see the defendant?” J.J. said. “He had been wearing the same clothes and hadn’t bathed in days when he was taken into custody. The victim had been stabbed thirty-two times. Yet, Ellison didn’t have a drop of blood on him.”
“Davis’s killer would have been covered in blood,” Cameron said. “Not only that, but the tire tracks found at the scene where the body had been dumped don’t match Ellison’s truck.” She directed her attention at Sanders. “He didn’t do it.”
Seth spun around to face Tony, who had been silent during their meeting. “What’s your professional opinion, Detective Seavers?”
When Tony turned his attention to Cameron, Seth blocked his view. “Considering that Lieutenant Gates is married to the defense attorney’s father—”
“Now that accusation is completely unacceptable,” J.J. said.
“It’s acceptable when we consider how you landed this case,” Seth said. “I talked to the public defender. He said you’d requested it. I also heard that you were at the crime scene before Detective Seavers. What were you doing there? Wiping down your client’s fingerprints?”
&nb
sp; “I didn’t have to wipe down any prints that weren’t there,” J.J. said.
“Then you shouldn’t be worried about Detective Seavers answering my question.” Seth turned to face Tony. “In your opinion, whose side had Lieutenant Gates been on during the course of this investigation?”
Tony flicked his eyes from the assistant prosecutor to Cameron.
It was the moment of truth. Cameron had heard murmurings about the young detective. His loyalty lay with those who could best help his career.
Tony cleared his throat. “The truth.”
“Yes, Detective Seavers,” the prosecutor said. “We want the truth. Answer Booker’s question. What have you observed while working with Lieutenant Gates?”
“She’s been on the side of truth,” Tony said. “That’s what I’m saying. It seemed like an open and shut case with the murder weapon being found in Ellison’s possession. But there was something that didn’t smell right to her.” He shrugged. “It smelled okay to me. But it didn’t for her. So she ordered me to keep on digging, and we found out that there’s a lot more to this case that meets the eye. If she hadn’t done that, then we could have sent an innocent man to jail.” He glanced at Cameron. “She’s the best. That’s why I requested to work with her.”
“You’re only saying that because she’s your supervising officer.” Seth told the prosecutor, “I want Gates removed from this case.”
“You can’t remove me from a case that isn’t in your jurisdiction,” Cameron said.
Seth glared at her.
“The murder happened in Columbiana County, Ohio,” J.J. said. “The body was dumped in Pennsylvania.”
“I had a long conversation with Herb Clark, Columbiana’s county prosecutor, at this sweet little café in Lisbon this morning,” Cameron said. “And yes, if you must know, my husband was there. He and Herb go way back. Well, Herb looks at it this way. The murder in Calcutta had happened before the body was dumped in Hookstown, and definitely before the murder weapon was planted in West Virginia. The way he sees it, he gets first dibs on the case and he wants it.”
“Figures,” Sanders said. “He’s up for re-election, too.”
“Considering all of the inconsistencies that I plan on throwing at the jury to create reasonable doubt,” J.J. said, “you might want to consider letting Clark take it.”
“Now, you—”
“Let him take it,” Sanders cut off Seth to declare. “It’s a dog of a case anyway.” She waved both arms in the direction of the door. A sign that they were all dismissed. “Drop the charges and get them out of here. Now.”
In the corridor, J.J. shook hands with Tony. “Thank you for your help, Seavers.”
“No problem,” Tony said.
After J.J. rushed off to meet Poppy, Cameron cocked her head at the detective. “You really know how to shovel it, Seavers. All that crap about asking to work with me. They may have bought it, but don’t think I believe it for a minute.”
“It’s the truth. One day, I intend to become captain of the state police. The only way I’m going to make that is to be the best. Best way to become the best is to learn from the best. That’s you.”
Cameron spun on her heels and headed down the hall. “Flattery will get you nowhere. If you don’t believe me, ask my daughter. Every night, she tells me how beautiful. She still has to be in bed before ten.”
John Davis’s death had caused a nagging feeling to resurface in Joshua’s mind. The facts of Lindsay’s death pointed to it being a tragic accident caused by driving while under the influence of drugs and alcohol.
As the county’s prosecuting attorney, Joshua would push Sheriff Sawyer and his deputies to keep digging until his gut told him there was nothing more. Yet, John and Kathleen Davis wanted to move on after their daughter’s death. Since there was no evidence of foul play, Joshua ignored his gut instinct and let the case rest—until John Davis’s murder brought that nagging feeling back with a vengeance.
Joshua waited until he had dropped off Izzy at the middle school and was on his way to his office in New Cumberland before calling Hunter Gardner on his hands-free phone.
“What’s up, Dad?” his son-in-law answered.
Joshua grinned. Hunter’s father had been a childhood friend. They’d grown up together. A sheriff’s deputy, Hunter’s father had been murdered when his son was only five years old. Joshua felt honored that Hunter began calling him “Dad” as soon as he and Tracy had become engaged.
“What’s your location?” Joshua asked.
“I’m pulling into the sheriff’s office for my meal break. Why?”
“Can I swing by and talk to you?”
“Am I in trouble? Listen, I tried to get to the house to help J.J. sand those hardwood floors, but Tracy needed me to exchange her garbage disposal. She says she needs a bigger one. Can you believe that? The new one is as big as a tank.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I just do what I’m told.”
“I want to talk to you about something else.”
“In that case, come on over. You’ll find me in the break room heating up my breakfast.”
In New Cumberland, the sheriff’s department was across the parking lot from the prosecuting attorney’s office. Joshua parked in his reserved space and jogged to the sheriff’s office.
He could smell Tracy’s hash browns casserole, stuffed with cheese and homemade sausage, all the way down the corridor. Thinking about the frozen waffles he had eaten for breakfast, he instantly became jealous.
Hunter had set up an elaborate spread across one of the tables in the break room. The microwave was heating up a fluffy three-egg omelet. Two slices of Texas toast rested on a plate next to the hashbrowns that had been prepared in a personal-sized casserole dish. There was also a small bowl of mixed fruit.
“Hungry?” Hunter held out the bowl of fruit.
Joshua broke off a branch of grapes. “Tracy doesn’t spoil you, does she?”
“Not at all.” Hunter peeled the lid from a plastic container. “Want a brownie? She baked them yesterday.”
The microwave beeped.
“How much weight have you gained since you got married?”
“Twelve pounds and counting.” Hunter took the perfectly shaped omelet out of the microwave oven and put another plastic container inside. “What’s so urgent that you needed to interrupt my breakfast?” He pressed the reheat button and the microwave proceeded to reheat the next item.
“You’ve become Sawyer’s go-to guy for accident reconstruction.” Unable to resist, Joshua tore off a corner from a slice of the Texas toast. The bread was warm to the touch.
Shrugging his broad shoulders, Hunter sat at the table. “I like doing it and it’s kind of fun trying to figure out how things happened.”
“Well, you came to work for the department the year after Lindsay Ellison was killed on Washington School Road.” He picked a piece of pineapple from the fruit bowl. “Have you ever taken a look at it?”
“No one ever asked me to.” Hunter held out the slice of the Texas toast. “Since you already started, you might as well finish it. Tracy made this with her new bread maker. It’s her own recipe.”
“Everything is her own recipe.” With a smile, Joshua took the slice and broke off a bite.
“She wiped out on that Y where Washington School Road breaks off of Locust Hill. It goes downhill and loops around,” Hunter explained between bites of his breakfast. “She had methamphetamine in her system and a point four blood alcohol level. It’s a miracle she was even conscious when she took that turn.”
“What if she wasn’t?” Joshua asked.
“Are you thinking it was murder?” Hunter arched an eyebrow in his direction. “She was knee deep in drugs—hanging out with druggies. That is a high-risk lifestyle. Maybe someone did want her dead.”
“It was definitely an accident. The thing is I’ve
always felt like there was something more to it.”
“I’ve been hearing from friends that it was suicide,” Hunter said.
“You and J.J. have the same friends,” Joshua said. “What exactly do they say?”
“Anything I know is hearsay.”
The microwave beeped.
“What else did Tracy pack for you?” Joshua asked while taking in the table filled with food.
“Gravy!” Hunter jumped up to fetch the hot container filled with sausage gravy. He ladled it out across the hash browns and eggs. Pleased with the feast set before him, he retook his seat.
“If I ate all this for breakfast, I’d need a nap within an hour,” Joshua said.
“Jealous.” Hunter took a forkful of the hash browns and moaned with pleasure. “To get back to Lindsay, most of what I know about that time period, I’ve learned from Tracy.”
“What did Tracy tell you?” Joshua dipped his slice of toast into the gravy.
“She’d made a big mistake throwing her life away on Derek,” Hunter said. “She really wanted to be a professional dancer, but she’d figured out that she didn’t have what it took to make it. Derek had been pursuing her, so she just gave up. By the time she realized what a mistake she’d made, she was trapped in a loveless marriage to a drunk and stuck with a baby that she didn’t know how to raise.”
“Do you think that you can tell by looking at the crime scene pictures and accident report, if it was an accident or suicide?”
“Probably.”
“How about if the victim had been thrown from the car?”
“What about it?”
“Can you tell if say …”
“If she was conscious?”
“If she was driving or a passenger?”
Hunter stopped eating and sat back in his seat. “What are you hunting for?”
“I don’t want to lead you in one direction or the other.”
“I understand.” Hunter resumed eating. “If I have all the data, I can give an educated guess. What makes you think someone else was driving?”