All the Shiny Things: A Kate Reid Novel (Kate Reid Series Book 1)

by Mahle, Robin

  She took another bite and continued with a full mouth, “I don’t know. I just feel like he’s not telling us something, something big.”

  Marc looked at her blankly, waiting for her to continue. Maybe she wasn’t presenting a compelling enough story and needed to elaborate to keep his attention.

  “I think he knew that maintenance crew would be there, or he scheduled it or something like that,” she said.

  Marc placed his fork down on his plate and dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He then deliberately rested his forearms on the table and leaned in. “Are you saying you think the chief killed your friend?” His words were barely above a whisper, as if there were ears all around and he wanted to be sure no one heard this ridiculous accusation.

  “No. I’m saying I think he knows who did. I think he’s somehow connected to this individual and that’s why he transferred to Rio Dell and that’s why he made sure Sam was found almost immediately. He knew they would insist I go into custody if they thought there was a clear danger to me or my family. He wants me out of the way.”

  Marc no longer had the look of a child about to be handed a giant lollipop. He seemed deflated and uninterested.

  “I’m sure this must sound farfetched, but I’ve been dealing with him for several months and ever since I was able to remember what my abductor looked like, he—changed. At first, I thought it was because Marshall—Detective Avery—had taken over and the FBI was involved, but I think it’s more than that.” She wasn’t getting through to him and was starting to sound desperate.

  “Okay, so say I help you find out more about Wilson’s record; what do you think it’s gonna say that you don’t already know?”

  “I want to know about his family, his wife, children; all of it. When they got married, where, you name it. I need to find something that doesn’t fit.”

  “Jesus, you realize you’re asking a hell of a lot here. Sac PD isn’t going to give me the guy’s personal history.”

  “I know, but it’s a start. Then I thought you could find the rest out through your contacts. You must have contacts with the city or state; someone who can pull personal records.”

  “Shit.” He rubbed his forehead.

  For just a moment, she thought about Spencer; he did the same thing.

  “I guess I do, yeah. I can’t believe you risked your safety to come down here and follow up on this. I gotta tell you, Katie, I’m not feeling it. But, as I’m here already, I’ll give you a day. I’ll get what I can tomorrow and after that, I would suggest you head back north and get yourself some protection. Let the professionals handle this.”

  His dismissive attitude got under her skin, but what choice did she have? His inquiries wouldn’t raise eyebrows. He’d play it off like he was working an angle on the story. Wasn’t that what investigative reporters did? And, he was good at his job. As much as this guy had been on her over the past month, he knew how to dig into a story. This was her one and only chance to get to the bottom of Chief Wilson’s story and she wasn’t about to let it go.

  “Thank you.” She began scribbling on a piece of paper. “Here’s my cell and where I’m staying. I trust that you won’t divulge this information to anyone else?”

  “I give you my word.”

  “Good. Call me when you’ve got something.”

  “I’ll call you if I’ve got something and if I don’t have anything and the day’s over, I’m sorry, but I can’t justify hanging around up here to my boss. He’ll start asking questions. We’ll say our goodbyes and part ways; no one will know what we discussed.”

  “I appreciate that.” She reached into her wallet and dropped two twenties. She didn’t want him to pay, even though her cash would dry up sooner rather than later if she didn’t watch her expenses. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  » » »

  Katie arrived back at her motel. It was nearly ten o’clock and she was exhausted. Having been awakened at the crack of dawn by Scarborough and then everything that had followed, she couldn’t believe her legs managed to carry her to the bed. But, before lying down, she pulled the bedspread down to the bottom. No way was she going to put her bare skin on that thing; not in this place.

  I should call Marshall; tell him I’m okay. Her purse was on the table. It was too far to reach so she hoisted herself up one more time and grabbed one of the disposables. She turned her phone on just to see if he had called. She couldn’t leave it on for too long, they’d be able to track her.

  Three voicemails; all from Marshall; each one sounding more desperate than the other. It had only been half a day since she’d spoken with him. He really was afraid for her, but she was safer there than anywhere right now.

  She turned it back off, then dialed his number on the throwaway. Only one ring and he picked up.

  “Detective Avery.”

  “It’s me.”

  “Oh, thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “I know. I’ve had my phone off since I talked to you last.”

  “Listen, Kate; you need to come back—now. The FBI is looking for you. They want you in custody. It’s not safe for you any more; not after Sam.”

  “I’m not under arrest, Marshall. I haven’t committed any crimes. I don’t have to do what they want me to do.”

  “You did steal the chief’s SUV.”

  “So, the FBI is going to arrest me for auto theft?” She had to calm her nerves; sounding defensive wasn’t going to help matters. “I’m sorry, Marshall. I know you’re worried. I can hear it in your voice. But, honestly, I’m fine. I’m only planning on being here another day, then I promise I will drive right back up to Rio Dell; right to the station.”

  “They want to know why you left.”

  “I don’t know why; just tell them I freaked out or something. That I didn’t want to be hidden away, useless to help anyone.”

  “But, that’s not it, is it?”

  She wanted to tell him; wanted him there to help, but this was something she had to do on her own, to protect him, for once. “I will tell you everything when I get back, I swear to you. No secrets.”

  Hadn’t she said that once before to someone she loved? It didn’t hold much weight then. But this was different. She was keeping this from him for his own good; not because she feared an argument or hurt feelings.

  “Damn it, Kate.” His frustration was waning, but she could still hear a hint of it in his voice.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I love you.” The inflection in her voice made her words sound more like a question than a statement. And it was; she was asking for forgiveness and was waiting patiently for a response.

  “I love you too.”

  The tension left her body as he said the words. He was upset with her, no question, but he did love her.

  “Good night, Kate.”

  She ended the call and put both phones on the nightstand next to her bed. As she closed her eyes, a moment of fear passed through her, goose bumps rising on her skin. Maybe it was the creepy motel, or maybe it was a fear that tomorrow, she would find nothing and would return to face the inevitable. At some point though, her journey through the dark and imposing Redwoods would have to end. It seemed like a place she’d never really left.

  » » »

  A man and a woman argued outside, near Katie’s motel room door. The muffled sound of obscenities being tossed around woke her from what had been a pretty good night’s rest. “Are you kidding me?” she said, folding the flat pillow around her head. But it was too late. She was awake. Katie rolled onto her back and looked up at the dingy popcorn ceiling. Today was the day. She would either drive back to Rio Dell, empty handed, groveling for forgiveness or she would return, exultant in her own investigative abilities. Like Marshall, she too had hunches and this one was strong.

  But what Katie needed right now was coffee. She glanced at the wind up alarm clock next to the bed and realized it was nearly eight a.m. The light seeping in around the edges of the blackout curtain was
dull and suggested a much earlier hour. It was already the start of October and the days had grown shorter without her even noticing. Time had been standing still for so long, Katie could hardly decipher one month from the next.

  One of the disposable cell phones began bouncing around on the nightstand, vibrating toward the edge until Katie snatched it up. It was the one with the number she had given to Aguilar.

  “Hello?”

  “You ready to get started?” The voice on the other end was immediately recognizable.

  “What? I can’t come with you,” Katie replied.

  “Why not? I’m not suggesting you waltz into Sac PD shouting, ‘Give me Robert Wilson’s files.’ But you need to be a part of this too. I can’t do this all on my own.”

  “Oh, okay. Yeah. I can meet you in twenty minutes?”

  “Make it fifteen and meet me at the diner.” Aguilar hung up.

  Katie dropped the phone and began scrambling to pull herself together. Having managed a quick shower, she pulled her wet hair back into a ponytail, brushed her teeth, and was out the door.

  Aguilar was sitting at the same booth from the night before. Only this time, he had some papers with him.

  “I’m here; so what now?” Katie slid into the booth, clasping her hands as they rested against the table.

  “I had a shitty night’s sleep in my hotel room last night, but it did give me time to think about your suspicions. While I’m not entirely convinced this is going to go anywhere, I’m sufficiently intrigued and have already begun to follow up on a few things.”

  Katie’s eyes lit up at his suggestion that she might have something; that she wasn’t crazy.

  He pulled his laptop out of his carrier bag and powered it up on the table. “I’ve already put calls in to some people I know at San Diego County Records; they can pull up files from just about anywhere in California, not that they’re supposed to. However, there’s a shocking amount of personal information online. So, that’s where I started.”

  Katie had been this route before. Not pertaining to Chief Wilson, but she knew what anyone could dig up on the internet.

  “Robert Wilson was married in 1983 to Sandra Sinclair, according to an announcement in the Sacramento Bee. That much, I found online. Then, I got an email reply early this morning from one I’d shot off in the middle of the night to my guy in Records. Seems the Wilsons lived in the suburbs of Sacramento and had a daughter in 1985 named Marisa. He joined Sac PD in 1984, where he started as a street cop and moved up to detective in 1988.”

  “So, the chief has a wife and daughter,” Katie said. “That doesn’t explain why he wanted to leave Sac PD for Rio Dell.”

  “That’s what we know right now. The next step is to talk to someone in Sac PD, see where that gets us.”

  “I can’t go in there with you. My case is all over the news.”

  “Calm down; I know that. I’m going in there on my own right now. Why don’t you go back to your room and I’ll be in touch as soon as I get what I need. And, take my laptop. You can do some more research on your own and I’ll forward any more files I get to this email address.” Aguilar handed her a piece of paper with a Gmail account written on it.

  The reporter whom just a week ago had been her adversary was now her biggest ally. Marshall wasn’t going to be happy about this new partnership. He trusted few people and even fewer in the media. But, she suspected Aguilar would cooperate so long as he thought a big story was going to break.

  “I’ll call you later.” Aguilar dropped a five on the table for his coffee and left.

  Katie ordered some breakfast and scanned the internet for more leads on Wilson. Nearly an hour had passed when she heard her name and took her eyes away from the computer screen. She quickly looked around for the source and noticed the small flat screen television hanging on the wall behind the breakfast counter. A headshot of Sam was on the screen next to the local news anchor.

  “And in other news, the FBI has confirmed a connection between the death of Samantha Hansen and the case of an eight-year-old Portland girl, found twenty years ago. They have advised the public that they are on the lookout for this man. The FBI asks that if you know the identity of this person to please contact them at once. He is considered dangerous and should not be approached.”

  They were admitting to a connection. This couldn’t be a good thing. They wouldn’t have released this information if they didn’t think the situation had gotten away from them.

  Katie stowed away the laptop, hoisted the bag over her shoulder, and left the diner. She had to get out of there; her face might be the next one to show up on the screen.

  » » »

  Back in her room, Katie continued looking for anything she could find on Wilson and his family, but Aguilar seemed to have had better luck. The piece of paper with the Gmail address on it lay next her. She opened up the account, but there were no new messages. The hours were ticking away and she had expected to hear from Aguilar by now.

  She soon reached for the cell phone and held it in her hand, staring at it, debating the need to call Marshall, to find out what was going on. He would only insist she come back, but what if he had more information? Something had happened overnight and she needed to know.

  “Detective Avery.” His tone was softer than before. He must have realized it would be her.

  “It’s me. I’m checking in.”

  “I was hoping it’d be you. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I just saw the news that the FBI admitted to the connection between Sam and Angela Richards.”

  “They did. Kate, I need you to come back here today.”

  There was something foreboding in his words, something that made her heart sink. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it? What is it, Marshall; what’s going on?”

  “There was another package, this time it was delivered to your parents’ house late yesterday. I didn’t find out about it until after we spoke last night. Miller called Chief Wilson and told him first.”

  “My parents’ house? Aren’t there cops protecting them?”

  “Yes. But it was sent via courier. We’re already working on who requested the delivery.”

  “What was in the package, Marshall?”

  “It was a bracelet; a child’s bracelet, like the kind a little girl would wear.”

  “Oh God, another child has gone missing? Who? When?”

  “We don’t know anything yet. But the bigger problem is that it was sent to your folk’s place. Katie, we need to get you and your parents somewhere safe. We are getting close to finding him. The guys working Oregon City may have finally turned up something. But we need you to come back and be with your family.”

  “What do you mean; what did they find up there?”

  “I mean it’s the little things that end up bringing the bad guys down, Kate. Scarborough’s men tracked down a location in Oregon City. You remember the lead on the stationery store? Someone in the area knew the guy, said he lived in a small cottage on the edge of town. The FBI is there now, searching the place.”

  “Why aren’t you there?” she asked.

  “I’m supposed to bring you back and keep your parents safe. He knows where they live and until we hear of a missing persons’ report that would fit, we don’t know if he’s taken another kid. Kate, I need you to come back now. Whatever it is you think you’re accomplishing out there on your own isn’t important any more. If they find anything about his identity in that house, he’s going to get desperate; start taking bigger risks. No one; not the FBI and not me, wants you or your parents around when that happens.”

  “Okay, I get it.” And she did. She was scared, not just for herself, but for her parents. “I’ll be back tonight, I promise.”

  “They know you’re in Sacramento. You need to come back now before they come and get you.”

  “Wait, how do you know?” She suddenly felt betrayed. Had Marc Aguilar, Mr. Annoying Investigative Reporter, called her out? She knew she shouldn’t have
trusted him.

  “Seems the chief still has some friends at Sac PD; someone called to tell him a reporter had been asking questions. I’m assuming you enlisted some help?”

  “Shit.”

  “I need to tell them you’ll come back voluntarily or they’re going to send someone to come get you.”

  “Why am I being treated like the criminal here? Am I not free to travel wherever I want?”

  “Normally, yes; but the last thing the FBI wants right now is for the press to realize you’re out looking for answers on your own and that the FBI can’t control you.”

  “So, it’s not about safety, it’s about controlling me.”

  “Not for me, it isn’t. I want you back here with me because I’m terrified something’s going to happen to you. But for them, yes; mostly it’s about keeping a handle on the investigation and not having some rogue person out there thinking she can find the killer, especially the only surviving victim.”

  “Marshall, I just need you to give me a few more hours. Okay? Can you just tell them we talked and I agreed to come back? I’ll just have some ‘car trouble’ along the way, explaining the delayed return.”

  “Promise me it’ll only be a few hours, Kate. I’m trusting that you understand what’s at stake here.”

  “I get it. I caused the death of my best friend. I’m not going to be the cause of losing my parents too. A few hours, I promise.” She hung up.

  She began to wonder how much Aguilar was going to be able to find out. One of Wilson’s friends either overheard him asking about the chief, or was the one being asked. She was going to have to call him and find out what was going on. “Marc, it’s me. Where are you?”