“Meaning?”
“Meaning, DCI needs to run their tests to confirm what we know. That’ll take a while.”
Waiting for the scientist to do their thing was nothing new for Lila. Where Iowa, as a state, differed to that of Chicago, a city, was the rate of homicides per year. Iowa DCI certainly didn’t have that type of a backlog.
“Lundquist, why are you really here? It can’t be to talk shop.”
He dragged his upraised boot across the wooden step and placed it on the ground. Squaring up, he ducked his head. Lila swore she could almost hear him say “shucks, ma’am” in that moment.
“Is it too forward of me to ask you a personal question?”
“I wouldn’t respect you as an officer of the law if you didn’t.”
Clearing his throat, he thumbed the side of his nose. Must be some serious kind of question.
“Why Eckardt?” He looked off to his left, and then back at her. “Why come here at all? There had to be places closer to home for you.”
It appeared Lundquist wasn’t in on the loop. And were Meyer and Fitzgerald left in the dark as well? The sheriff could have left it up to Lila to reveal as much as she wanted, if at all, to her fellow deputies. Not knowing Lila’s secrets must be grating on Lundquist for him to directly broach the subject.
“If you were to know why, what do you get out of it?”
“The truth.”
“Truth is subjective. What may be truth to you could be a lie to me.”
“Lying about your reasons for being here is justifiable?”
Lila rolled her shoulders inside the hoodie, burrowing deeper into it. “I’d have no reason to lie about my being here. It’d serve no purpose.”
“Then suspend with the mind games and explain yourself.”
Whatever relaxing measures the tea provided were undone at the authoritative tone coming from a man who had yet to scratch the surface of her years as a police officer. Pushing her hands back through the cuffs, she rose, leaving the Glock on the porch, a level of trust she dare not give any other person, but for some reason she gave him.
“Deputy Lundquist, I keep my own counsel. Whatever my reasons, they remain mine and mine alone. Those in the know are informed. You, however, are not. Now that we’ve cleared the air on this matter, haul your ass back to your unit and leave.”
“If I refuse?”
She descended the steps, stopping on the middle one that put her at eye level with him. “Refuse.” She shrugged. “Fine.” Turning on her heel, she marched back up the steps, grabbed up the Glock and mug, and headed for the door.
His radio crackled. Fitzgerald was hailing him.
“Your job beckons, Deputy Lundquist.” She let the door clap shut behind her.
Lila lingered in the entryway, palming the pebbled grip of her service weapon. Lundquist’s rumbled reply to his night shift partner filtered through the door. A moment later, the truck’s engine came alive, and then pulled away.
Gerry, the blue Betta, hovered at the edge of his tank.
“What’re you staring at?”
Blue fins rippled in the water.
“I don’t need any judgment from a fish.”
Lila did enough of that on her own.
Chapter Nineteen
Day 3: Friday
Marnie waited for her on the old dam lock. Elizabeth took the proffered cup of witch’s morning brew her sister was known for and sat next to her on the refurbished wood bench. Bentley tucked her body between the two women’s legs. Together, as they had many Friday mornings for the last year and half since Elizabeth’s return, they enjoyed their coffee and watched the river surge and roll over the bedrock. Their breath mingled with the slip of steam escaping through the cup lid. A cold front had moved in overnight, dropping the temps into the upper thirties. The air tasted crisp, fresh, a promise of snow on the horizon. Across the river and along the bank, eagles floated above the treetops.
“Fine mess you’ve got developing,” Marnie commented before tipping up her cup for another drag.
Elizabeth clenched her gloved fist. “Be specific. I’ve got a lot of messes developing.”
“Fine mess number one.” Marnie flicked up a gloved finger. “Kiss and make up with your ex so I can stop listening to his bitching and moaning.”
“Solution number one, not happening.”
“Mess number two: screw that brother of his and get it over with.”
Elizabeth groaned.
“Number three: your double homicide. Now that it has hit the papers, you’re going to have lots of unwanted scrutiny. Keep everything close to your vest and let that new detective deputy run with it.”
“If she stays up to the task.”
Marnie’s three fingers retreated. “Not working out, is she?”
“It’s complicated.”
Grunting, her sister crossed her legs. “Like everything else with you. For once, just make it simple. Like scratching the itch that’s Rafe Fontaine.”
“When I want relationship advice, I’ll get it from someone who isn’t a known free love proponent.”
“Just saying.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Are you quite done with lecturing me on the messes in my life and career?”
“Fourth and final mess: you getting caught up in the Meyer and Kauffmann version of the Hatfields and McCoys.”
“I have no intention of doing any such thing.”
Marnie laughed, reaching over to pinch Elizabeth’s cold cheek. “Aren’t you just the cutest in all your denial.”
She swatted her sister’s hand aside. “I deny nothing. It hasn’t broken any laws, therefore, I have no reason to interfere.”
“Ah, but Ma Kauffmann is going to make damn sure you side with her no matter which way she swings that big dick of hers. In the years you were gone, she’s become quite the Marm Mandelbaum.”
Marnie and her veritable encyclopedia brain of useless historical facts was always good for an eye roll.
“I doubt that she’s become a nineteenth-century crime boss.”
“Would Ma Barker suit you?”
Pressing her fingers to her forehead, Elizabeth moaned. “Sister, dearest, you digress.”
“Ah, that I do, but you have to admit I’m right.”
“I have no proof Ma has become anything other than a woman looking after her family.”
Marnie squinted at her. “Right.” Sarcasm dripped off that single word like hot tar on a post.
“Is there a point to all of this?”
Tapping the side of her empty cup, Marnie stood and looked down at Elizabeth. “There is. You are in the trial by fire stage, Big Sis, and if you fail this level, you’re out. And the coach will send Sheehan back out.” Bending over, she kissed her sister on the forehead. “Watch your back.”
Elizabeth watched her younger sibling strut across the park. She remained on their bench. Bentley hopped up, and nosed her way under Elizabeth’s elbow, resting her head on her lap.
“Screwing Rafe is the easiest out of the four.”
Bentley huffed, bumping her snout into Elizabeth’s midsection.
“Yeah, I think so too.”
*
Lila noted the number of vehicles in the parking lot when she arrived at the department as the sun breached the horizon. Two. Since Fitzgerald and Meyer drove the old Crown Vics, Lila couldn’t be sure which of the men were here. Missing was Fontaine’s Charger. Good. She had a little more time to pull together a believable “sorry, I’m not sorry.” The non-squad car had to be the dispatcher’s, one Lila hadn’t quite made herself familiar with. So, that left the sheriff and Lundquist MIA.
Slipping through the door, Lila walked as quietly as she could down the hall. Low voices drifted from the main office area, halting as she emerged.
“Good morning, Deputy Detective.” Georgia smiled.
“Mornin’.” Lila refused to meet Lundquist’s gaze. If he was here, where did he park that truck? “When do you expect the sheriff to get i
n?”
“Since it’s Friday, she’ll be a bit behind schedule. She always has coffee with her sister.” Georgia picked up an Eckardt County mug and a coffee carafe. “Black?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Fitzgerald stood with a groan. “Since she’s here, I’ll shove off.”
“I’ll let you know when the car will be ready, Ben.”
“Thanks, Georgia.” He shoved his arms inside his deputy’s jacket as he headed for the door. He momentarily locked eyes with Lila.
Did Lundquist voice his concerns about her to Fitzgerald last night? Or was the man always a scowling pain in the ass?
“I’ll be waiting in the truck,” he said over his shoulder in Lundquist’s direction, and moved on.
Lila smiled her thanks and took the offered mug. “You have those reports?” she asked Lundquist.
Sighing, he stood and ambled over to a desk littered with papers, yellow and pink sticky notes, a few stray paper clips, and pens scattered from here to eternity. He snatched a folder from the top of the mess and held it up. “The sheriff has everything else.”
Lila took the file and tucked it under her arm. “Thanks.”
She looked around at the scattered desks. The one she’d seen Fontaine sitting at the other night had to be his; it appeared neat and organized, sort of like the man himself. Three desks remained, and two looked unoccupied. Which one was supposed to be hers?
“Georgia, tell the sheriff I went home. I’ll check in later.”
The dispatcher acknowledged the deputy and answered the ringing phone.
Lundquist gathered his things, and with a parting look at Lila, headed for the exit.
“Because I found it safer than where I was,” she said in a low voice as he passed.
Lundquist came to a halt. Confusion marred his features. Had he forgotten that he’d asked her why she came to Juniper? As if a light bulb had gone off upstairs, the scrunched lines in his forehead smoothed out. If he expected more of an answer from her, he wasn’t going to get it. With a nod, he departed.
Alone with Georgia, Lila tested the coffee and considered the file under her arm.
“If I were you, I’d take that desk.” Georgia pointed at the one butted up to Lundquist’s. “It’s free, and my gut tells me the two of you are going to be working together a lot.”
“I don’t know about that.”
An all-knowing smile crossed the dispatcher’s lips. “Uh-huh.” She lifted a pair of files rubber banded together and held them out. “The sheriff left these for you.”
Lila took the bundle, catching the names and a case number on the labels. These belonged to the two young women.
Carrying them, and her coffee, to the designated desk, Lila set her stack down but didn’t sit. “Georgia, how long have you been the dispatcher for the department?”
The curly blonde tilted her head and contemplated Lila. “Twenty-three years.”
“You worked under Sheehan?”
Georgia’s face puckered. That answered that.
Lila settled on the edge of the desk. “Fill me in.”
Georgia glanced at the empty room. “I don’t like to gossip.”
“This isn’t gossip—this is informing. I’m running blind here when it comes to him and his history with this department. His history with the sheriff.”
“Shouldn’t you be discussing this with the sheriff?”
“The only thing I got about him from her was to watch myself. There’s more to it than that. And who better to know the intricate details than the dispatcher?”
Picking up a pen, Georgia scribbled on a notepad. “Yes, I do know details. But most of what I know is suspicion.”
“Suspicion works for me.”
The dispatcher looked at Lila like a mother would when she’d caught her child in a lie. “Let me be frank with you, Deputy Dayne. You’re in Eckardt County now. People in Iowa are friendly and giving, some would call it nice. That veneer is what we want the outside world to believe.”
“I see.” Lila leaned back. “As an outsider, I won’t get anywhere with these fine folks. As the sheriff so readily pointed out my first day here.”
“She’s not wrong. Word of advice. Keep one of the boys with you at all times if you’re not with Ellie.”
Lila held up a finger and shook it. “But the sheriff was gone from here for years. How does that not make her an outsider?”
“Ever hear the saying, no matter how far you run, you’ll always be welcomed home with open arms?”
Sheriff Elizabeth Benoit was a daughter of Eckardt County. No matter where in the world she had traveled or how long she’d been gone, she was one of them. Same with her ex-husband, and anyone else who grew up here, went away, and returned.
Then what about her? How did she shake free of that stigma? “Let’s say I spend the next ten to twenty years here, working for the sheriff’s department. What makes people see me as anything other than an outsider?”
Georgia tucked her pen behind her ear. “Deputy Dayne, that is a question that may never be answered.”
The phone rang, putting an end to that conversation.
If Lila did decide Juniper, Eckardt County, was her final stop in life, then she had her work cut out for her. Circling the desk, she settled into the creaky office chair. Sipping the coffee, she glanced at the large wall clock. Time to get this day started.
While she waited for the sheriff, Lila read through the autopsies and reports. The cause of death for Maya Wagner was noted: fractured spine between the C3 and C4 vertebra resulting in instant death, manner was decided as homicide due to the bruising along the victim’s jaw and on her neck, indicating where her killer gripped her head to force the snap.
The ME had noted that there were no signs at all that Maya’s body had been cooled down to slow or stop decomposition. No indicators of frost or freezing. Was that just a passing idea from the sheriff?
No signs of sexual assault, but there were indications that Maya had been sexually active, though maybe not recently. She had faint tracks on the inside of her right elbow. Heroin user? Not good. Such nasty stuff, heroin was a drug that users ended up hooked for life, and it eventually killed them. Worse, it was cheap to buy.
Lila licked her lips and clamped down on her tongue. The ME hadn’t seen any new needle marks, but that didn’t stop a user from finding ways to take it without leaving behind visible clues. Lila flipped to the Wagners’ statement, noting that the sheriff had taken the information. The couple revealed Maya had been known to smoke pot and abuse prescription opioids. Guess she decided the harder stuff was the way to go when the pills weren’t enough. Her tox panel would determine if she truly had used heroin in her last days.
Lila dragged Regan Flynn’s autopsy on top of Maya’s. The medical examiner had no clear cause of death, but the manner was listed as homicide. Copies of the X-rays Lila and Fontaine had observed the other night were in the file, and Lila’s gut told her that weird break in the back of Regan’s neck was probably the actual cause. If Lila was right, both women had been the victims of a neck-breaking fiend.
There were blatant signs of drug use indicated in the perforations in her nostrils from snorting and the dark tracks found inside her left elbow. A vaginal swab found semen; Regan had had sex before she died. The ME noted there were no signs of this being a rape, but the sex could have been with her killer, and DNA could help them get closer to finding out who killed them and why.
Elbow planted on the desktop, Lila plowed her fingers through her hair and braced her head against her hand. Had the girls gone foul with a dealer? Supplier? Could Regan have paid for the drugs with sex, but when it came time for Maya, she refused? But why break her neck? Seemed too personal when a bullet would have done the trick. Messier, but effective.
Clamping down on her tongue once more, Lila stared holes into the reports. Trace blood evidence pointed to one of the girls being in the old Barrett place, the DNA testing had not yet come back to prove which girl. But
if Lila went by Mrs. McKinnley’s timeline, the two young women should have been killed the night before Regan’s body was discovered. Her autopsy said otherwise. Had the killer put the girls on ice? Chilling or freezing the bodies made no sense. Then again, chilling the bodies had some merit, because somewhere in all of this, the killer didn’t want them to know something about the girls’ deaths.
Maybe Mrs. Neva McKinnley had her nights mixed up?
A flash of auburn and white startled her out of her meanderings. Bentley sat next to the desk, staring up at Lila. Her gaze left the dog, wandered to Georgia’s desk, and landed on the woman with a glittering star on her chest.
“Must be some deep thoughts you have there, Deputy Dayne.”
“Sheriff.” Lila stood. “We need to discuss some things.”
“I’m sure we do.” Benoit took the offered pink slips from Georgia, eyeing the top note. “Oh goodie,” she muttered and turned to her office. “Let’s go, Deputy Dayne.”
Both Lila and Bentley followed their leader into her domain, Bentley peeling off to jump up in her favored chair and flopping down on the battered cushion.
“Wouldn’t a new dog bed be better for her than that old thing?”
Benoit rounded her desk. “She has beds at home she barely uses. Why bother?” She set the slips on her desk calendar and took her chair. “What’s on your mind?”
“I want to have another talk with Mrs. McKinnley. Preferably this morning.”
“Any particular reason why?”
“You and I both know something is screwy between her lodged complaint of trespassers and the ME’s time of death. I want to double down on her timeline.”
Steepling her hands in front of her, Benoit eyed Lila above her fingertips. “Because you sense what?”
“That she might not be wrong on the night in question and what she heard. And there could be a potential third victim we’re not aware of.”
Benoit made a noise in her throat, drumming her fingers together. “I think you’re onto something there, Dayne.” She dropped her hands and sat back in her chair. “I would like to come with you, but I have other pressing matters that require my attention. Go with Deputy Fontaine.”
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