CHAPTER 42
Saige Hamilton was laying on her left side on the floor, her body coiled like the folds in an accordion. She’d taken a single bullet, as noted by the entry wound on the side of her forehead.
The site wasn’t neat and tidy this time. Blood was on the wall, the furniture, all over the carpet. The blood on the wall probably started as spatter until someone made an attempt to clean it. Red swirl patterns circled the wall in front of me, indicating someone started soaking up the mess. Why then hadn’t they finished? The sloppy cleanup job was half-assed, like the person had been interrupted, or perhaps they’d been stopped, forced to leave the half-wiped, blood-spattered room behind.
Saige’s hands and feet were bluish in color, her lips pale. Rigor mortis had begun, affecting her eyelids, neck, and jaw. It hadn’t spread throughout her body yet, meaning her death had been recent. How recent we wouldn’t know until the coroner arrived.
A cell phone rested a few inches from Saige’s body. It was an older model flip phone. And it was open. Had she tried to reach out to someone right before she was murdered? Or had the call itself been the reason for her murder? I wanted to grab it, look up her last call. Most of the time, I’d take a gamble. This time, Cade had already called in reinforcements, forcing me to play by the rules. Most of them anyway.
“It looks to me like whoever did this knocked her around first.”
I eyeballed the presumptuous male officer poised behind me. He was young, so young he couldn’t have been a cop for long. I wondered what someone so fresh and unaware was doing here, and why he wasn’t with his partner.
“She wasn’t beaten,” I said.
“How do you explain the discoloration then?”
“Lividity.”
I waited for him to ask me what the word lividity meant. He didn’t. Instead, he got down on all fours, aligning his face so close to Saige’s, I shuddered. Dead bodies made me squeamish. This kid seemed fascinated.
“Don’t touch her,” I said. “She hasn’t been examined yet.”
Upon hearing my reprimand, he grimaced. “Wasn’t going to, miss.”
He propped his body back up to a kneeling position, stuck a hand out. I took it.
“Where’s your partner?” I asked.
“I’m Nash Crawford.”
He dodged the partner question and introduced himself by his first name instead of Officer Crawford. Strange. “Sloane Monroe.”
“Haven’t seen you around here before.”
“I’m here with Cade.”
“Detective McCoy?”
I nodded.
“Oh.”
His response, while simple, carried a sort of admiration and esteem with it, like he revered Cade. I didn’t blame him.
“I take it this is your first dead body?” I asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Just an observation.”
He fussed with the collar on his shirt. “This kind of thing doesn’t happen a lot around here. From looking at her, I assumed this was a domestic dispute. What do you think?”
For a novice, he was eager to learn.
“The discoloration you see on her arm and leg are natural given her body’s position,” I said.
“How so?”
“When a person dies, their heart stops beating, as you already know. When the heart fails to pump, blood stops flowing. This is what it looks like when the blood settles. It may look like abuse, but it’s not.”
“Impressive.” Hooker entered the room with Cade. “Would you like to do the autopsy for me too while you’re here?”
Hooker laughed. I didn’t. Not because I didn’t appreciate his attempt to amuse me, but because Chief Rollins entered the room behind him, face solemn. For the moment, he ignored me, concentrated on the kid still knelt next to Saige.
“Nash, what are you doing here?”
The kid stared at the ground, his face pale.
“I … umm … heard about it on the radio and decided to come over, take a look.”
“You can’t be here. You could have contaminated the scene.”
“Sorry, Grandpa. I just wanted to check it out, you know? I’m a cop now. Can’t I do that?”
Grandpa?
“He didn’t touch anything,” I said. “I made sure of it.”
Without facing me, Chief Rollins said, “You shouldn’t be here either.”
“You’re here because I’m here, because Cade and I found this place.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed Nash by the arm and escorted him out of the room.
“Nice kid,” I said to Cade. “He perked right up when I mentioned your name.”
Cade grimaced. “He has a thing for Shelby. Been comin’ around the house a lot lately.”
“And you don’t approve?”
“He’s four years older than she is, and you just saw who he has for a grandfather.”
I suppose at Shelby’s age, four years was a big deal. Still, I didn’t see why it mattered. Our conversation halted when Hooker went to work on the body, first making a small incision into Saige’s abdomen, inserting a thermometer into her liver tissue. I turned away, unable to watch.
“I’m trying to get her—”
“Core body temperature,” I said, remaining turned around. “I know.”
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises,” Hooker said.
“You’re not the only medical examiner she knows,” Cade said. “Not the best lookin’ either.”
I backed out of the room as the rest of Hooker’s team arrived to process the scene. While the medical experts did their job, investigators dissected the house. Cade and Hooker talked, giving me the opportunity to slip out. I walked to the house next door. No one was home. I tried the next house. Same result. As I started up the driveway to the third house, I was met by the kind of couple that looked like they could have passed for brother and sister, even though they were probably husband and wife. Their eyes were glazed over, fascinated with the cars gathered at the end of the street.
“What’s goin’ on over there?” the woman asked. “We walked over, tried to find out what was happening. They told us a whole lot of nothin’ and sent us back home.”
“I can’t say just yet.”
“Oh, come on. Please,” the woman begged. “We have a bet going, and I’m sure I’m right.”
A bet. People never ceased to amaze me. Neighborly sentimentality aside, they were eager, exactly the kind of people I hoped to find.
“How well do you know Saige Hamilton?” I asked.
The woman responded first. “Not well at all. She’s lived there a year, and we’ve only spoken a couple times. Keeps to herself, that one.”
“She’s friendly to me,” the man added. “She smiles and waves whenever she drives by.”
The woman pressed her hands to her hips. “How nice for you. She doesn’t wave to me.”
“Did she have a camper parked next to her house?” I asked.
“Ugliest thing you’ve ever set eyes on,” the woman said. “I left a note on her door complainin’ about it. She didn’t do a thing. Didn’t even bother comin’ over here to talk to me about it.”
“How long has it been there?”
“Twelve days.”
“Did the camper belong to Saige?”
The woman shook her head. “A man.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“He just showed up one day in that unsightly piece of trash, parked it on the side of the house, and moved in.”
“Now, honey,” the man said. “We’re not sure if he moved in. We don’t even know who he is. He could have been visiting for all we know.”
“So neither of you ever talked to the guy?”
They shook their heads in unison.
“The camper’s gone. When did that happen?”
“Today,” the man said. “About two hours ago.”
“No, not that long,” the woman said. “It’s only been about an hour. I know bec
ause I was watching The View when it passed by.”
The man rolled his eyes. The woman smiled, leaned in close. “If you tell me why all these police have invaded our street, I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Fine,” I said. “Tell me what you know.”
“Oh no. I know how this works. I tell you somethin’, and you don’t tell me anything. I don’t think so.”
If it was anyone else, I might have hesitated, but town gossips thrived on two things: attention and keeping up on the latest information.
“The police are here investigating the death of Saige Hamilton.”
The woman’s head started bobbing around in a kind of spastic motion. “I knew it! I just knew someone was dead!”
Without saying another word, she ran inside her house and closed the door.
“Is she coming back, do you think?”
The man laughed. “She lives for this kind of drama. Give her an hour, and she’ll have found a way to spin the story into something that involves her directly. She’ll have all her friends believing it too.”
“Don’t you be spreadin’ lies about me, Stu.” The woman returned, paper in hand.
“What’s this?”
“The license plate from the truck pullin’ the camper.”
I felt like she’d just placed a sizable gold nugget in my hand.
The man shook his head. “What on earth is wrong with you?”
“I told you somethin’ was off about that man,” the woman replied. “And I was right.”
“When the man left, was he alone?” I asked.
“Oh no. There were four of them, all left together. The man with the camper, another man, a woman, and a baby.”
CHAPTER 43
“The truck is registered to a Derrick Hamilton from Lyman, Wyoming, and the car out front is registered to Samantha Wilcox.”
Derrick Hamilton was identified as Saige and Samantha’s brother. He was also a convicted felon, a thief, having served a short time in jail for armed robbery. Had he just added baby snatcher to his rap sheet?
“Lyman?”
What a funny name.
“It’s a small town a few hours from here.”
The chief put in a call to the Lyman Police Department. Two officers were sent to Derrick’s residence to watch and wait, should Derrick make a false move and head for home. An APB was also issued.
Saige’s body was loaded up, transported to the lab for further analysis. From what Hooker had already observed, she hadn’t been dead long. After the initial tests, he narrowed the timeline down to the last few hours. The neighbor was certain she’d seen the camper pull out only an hour before, which meant after the murder, the killer, or killers, stuck around for a while. Now they were running scared, trying to decide their next move.
We were on the right track. I was sure of it. A baby bottle had been found in the house of a person who had no baby. There was a connection between the Wilcox and the Westwood families, both of them present at the hospital on the same day. Derrick and Saige were Samantha’s sister and brother. And, another dead body had been found, similar to the way Serena’s was before.
“I can’t stand this,” I said to Cade. “The waiting. I need to be out there doing something.”
“If this guy has Finn, he’d be an idiot to return to his house now.”
I wasn’t so sure. Idiocy seemed to be a growing pandemic.
“He’s hauling a trailer. Even if they left over an hour ago, the trailer will most likely slow them down.”
“If he’s headed toward Lyman, there are two main routes he could take—through Green River or Evanston.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Chief Rollins exit Saige’s house. He was talking to one of the investigators while keeping tabs on Cade, like he planned to come our way next.
“Do you think Derrick is headed back to his hometown?” I asked.
Cade tugged at the sleeve of my shirt, tipped his head toward his truck. “Only one way to find out.”
CHAPTER 44
Knowing there were several officers patrolling both stretches of highway, we elected to try something different. Although the drive wasn’t much more than miles and miles of uninhabited land, there were a few towns here and there, gas stations, a couple diners even. We banked on the fact Derrick would make a stop somewhere.
We drove over an hour and didn’t meet anyone who claimed to have seen the truck, the trailer, or its inhabitants. The chief called once, then a second time. I assumed by now he knew where we’d gone. I also assumed he wasn’t happy. I didn’t care. He’d sanctioned our help. Too late now.
A skinny, boxcar-shaped, metallic building on the right side of the road caught my eye for two reasons. One, there was nothing but barren land for miles around, and two, because of the cosmic-looking sign out front that displayed the diner’s name: Galaxy Burger. It looked like one of those restaurants from the fifties where waitresses rolled up to your car on skates, wearing silly hats on their heads and multi-layered, polka-dotted skirts with the ruffle peeking out of the hem.
“I got this one,” I said.
I hopped out of the truck and took a couple steps toward the door, when something else caught my eye. A silver truck hitched to a long, beat-up trailer. I told myself to remain calm, not to overreact, but every body movement I made seemed tense, awkward, obvious.
Cade lowered the passenger-side window. “What’s goin’ on?”
I leaned inside the window, tried to act casual, like I’d forgotten to tell him something. When I tried to speak, I choked on my words at first, then managed to get out a simple fragment, “Trailer behind diner.”
My instinct said to turn, glare through the windows of the diner, size up all of its patrons. I didn’t dare. If they were inside, there was a good chance they were paranoid, watching every car, every person to arrive.
“Sloane, take a breath, go inside, and ask to use the restroom. Ask for a menu, pretend to order somethin’ if you have to. You may have been spotted gettin’ out of the truck, so it has to be you.”
I wanted it to be me. I just didn’t want to blow our cover.
The walk to the café entrance felt like five times the distance it should have. I kept my focus on the front door, tried not to gawk through the windows, tried to quiet my nerves. A few more steps and I’d be inside.
A “Please Seat Yourself” sign greeted me at the entrance. I looked up, tried to find a sign directing me to the restroom. I didn’t see one. One of the female waitresses passed me, grazing my shoulder with the steaming pot of coffee she’d hoisted in one of her hands.
“Oh my goodness,” she said. “I’m so sorry. Did that get you?”
“Do you have a restroom?”
“Sure, sweetie.”
I was hoping she’d point to the aisle running left to right, so I could scope out one section walking to the restroom, and the other when I came out. She didn’t. She aimed a finger straight ahead.
I walked to the restroom, entered, stood inside one of the stalls for a minute, walked back out. I craned my head around like I was searching for an empty table to sit at. In the process, I didn’t see anyone matching the mug shot Cade showed me of Derrick Hamilton, didn’t hear or see any babies. The booths were extra high, and extra padded, handicapping me from a full line of sight. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they weren’t here.
“Can I get you something?”
The waitress was back, sans the coffee pot, pen and pad in hand.
“Uh … coffee? To go.”
I didn’t drink coffee.
“Got it. Anything else? Pastry, slice of our delicious seven-layer chocolate cake for the road?”
I ordered the seven layers. The waitress trotted off to the kitchen. She pushed her way through a thin, reflective door. When it swayed closed, I caught a glimpse of something in its mirrored reflection. A camouflaged beanie hat.
CHAPTER 45
I handed Cade a full plate of cake, a fork, and a cup of coffee. “Der
rick’s in there. At least, I think he is.”
“I ran the plates on the camper,” Cade said. “It’s his.”
“There’s a man sitting in a booth just behind the door to the kitchen. He’s wearing the same kind of camouflage beanie hat Jack described. I didn’t get a good look at his face. His back was to me, and he kept his head down. If it’s him, we have a problem.”
“Which is?”
“He’s not sitting with anyone. He’s alone. No baby. No sister. No brother-in-law.”
“Huh.” Cade crouched down in the seat, picked his phone out of his pocket. “Callin’ the chief. We need back up.”
Cade might have felt obligated to wait. I didn’t. I opened Cade’s center console, removed a hunting knife I’d noticed before, released it inside my jacket pocket.
“Now hang on, Sloane. Don’t go back into the restaurant—”
The rest of his sentence trailed off in garbled, indistinguishable puff of air as I headed to the camper alone. I turned just long enough to see Cade frantically dialing the phone. I understood his need to follow protocol as much as I understood my own need not to.
I slashed both of Derrick’s front tires when I reached his truck. As I removed the heavy, serrated blade from the second tire, I heard it. A sound coming from inside the camper. A baby. Crying. The sweet sound of discontent stirred every emotion from within my body.
I’d done it.
We’d done it.
We’d saved him.
Please, let it be him.
A second sound, footsteps, approached from behind. I whipped around, pointed my gun.
“Good hell, woman,” Cade whispered. “Don’t aim that thing at me.”
“Don’t rush me like that.”
“Don’t take off on me again.”
I was too nervous to think of another comeback.
Cade assessed the flattened front tires. “I thought you could use my help. Looks like you’ve got it under control.”
Tears clouded my eyes. I held them back. There would be time for all that later. My job, our job, wasn’t finished yet.
Sloane Monroe 06-Hush Now Baby Page 18