Trained to Protect

by Linda O. Johnston

  “This has to end,” he finally said throatily as he pulled back.

  Confused, she asked, “The kiss?”

  “No. These threats against you.”

  “Absolutely.” Although, deep inside, she realized she now had a tiny, ridiculous reason to thank whoever was doing this. She was spending more time with Doug... No, that was even worse than a ridiculous thought.

  He drew her close again and once more they kissed. He was clearly sexually attracted, too. She could feel his hardness against her. Could she—should she—take advantage of his soothing, sexy presence now and—

  His phone rang. He pulled back immediately and answered it.

  “Yeah?” he said in response to whatever his caller said. “Interesting.” He talked for a while longer and Elissa felt sure it was someone involved with investigating the latest threat.

  He looked at his phone’s screen a couple of times before hanging up. Then he looked at Elissa, who’d sat on the couch near where he still stood.

  “They got a video of the person who left the sign, but it’s blurred. I’ll show it to you in case you can recognize it. But one thing is clear. The person was a woman.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “I assumed, with all the threats and online stuff, that it had to be a man.”

  He showed her the video. Something about the woman seemed familiar but Elissa couldn’t identify her, not with the blurry, dark pictures. A hint of a question and possibility passed through her, though. She didn’t want to even mention it since it seemed so absurd.

  But maybe she could follow through and at least ask some questions...

  * * *

  No easy answers, damn it, Doug thought as he finished his conversation with the crime scene guys and hung up.

  But he needed to return to the station. Press them a bit more, and Gil, too. Look for more answers. Fast.

  First, though—Well...he hated the idea of leaving Elissa there alone, even with Peace. The dog really was much too peaceful. Ha, ha.

  “Sorry we couldn’t just nail the person through that security footage but I’ve got to get back to the station to follow up. You’ll be okay here on your own?”

  “Sure.” But he could tell she was just putting on a brave front.

  “Okay. Just stay here, doors locked. I’ll remain in touch and let you know if we find anything else.”

  “Fine.”

  He initiated one more big, sexy kiss then he and Hooper headed out the door.

  * * *

  All right. It was absurd. But the accusations on the internet claiming she’d harmed kids, combined with everything else, had given Elissa an idea—one she had firmly suppressed before.

  She might wind up just tearing at her target’s old wounds, making them even more painful again especially if she was wrong, but she needed to at least contact the person she had in mind.

  Adellaide Willmer was working on becoming a therapy dog handler in San Luis Obispo.

  She was also the mother of Tully Willmer, the boy who had died by falling out a window after his therapy dog session. And Elissa and Peace had worked with Tully months before his death. Adellaide had accompanied him then. Elissa therefore knew Adellaide, though only slightly. She had contacted the bereaved mother at the time to express her condolences.

  She had later seen Adellaide at the hospital starting her therapy dog work.

  Her tormenter was a woman and Elissa couldn’t rule out the person in the indistinct security footage from being Adellaide. And what person was more likely than one with anger and hurt and vengeance on her mind?

  A bereaved mother looking for someone to blame? One who had brought in a therapy dog that hadn’t wound up helping her son?

  Why Elissa and not one of the other handlers? That was a good question—one that might make this whole idea absurd, especially since Adellaide herself now shared a connection with therapy dogs.

  But it wouldn’t hurt to talk to Adellaide. Maybe she had other ideas about who was doing this—assuming it wasn’t her.

  It would be better to talk to her in person but Elissa had no intention of returning to SLO, especially not for something like this. Instead, not having direct contact information, she called the restaurant where Adellaide had once mentioned she worked as a chef—and was pleased to have Adellaide come to the phone nearly immediately.

  Elissa hadn’t spent much time figuring out how to ask her questions, but she did so as subtly as she could. Instead of bursting right out and demanding whether Adellaide was her harasser, she began by inquiring how the woman was. How her husband Perry was.

  And got some interesting answers. Very interesting. And surprising. And worrisome.

  When she was through, she knew she needed to head to downtown Chance—but she at least called Doug first.

  He didn’t answer his phone, so she supposed he was in a meeting. Nevertheless she left a message, telling him she’d come up with some information she needed to share with him. Maybe they could get together for dinner—in town, since that was where she was heading.

  To entice him, she said, “I had a new idea about who my harasser could be—but when I talked to her she led me in a different, though similar, direction. I’m going to check on someone else now. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. But if you happen to be able to join me in the next twenty minutes, here’s the address.” She recited it, then hung up.

  And she was careful. She of course took Peace with her, and she’d invited Doug to meet her at her goal. Most likely, she would wait till he arrived. It would make more sense for a cop to question the woman she wanted to talk to.

  Elissa already had the information about where to find the woman, which she found both scary and fascinating.

  It was Jill Jacobs, one of her students. Jill lived on a busy Chance street in an area containing quite a few apartment buildings. Elissa arrived, parked and exited her SUV with Peace, walking up and down the street, staring at the building in question, wanting—but also not wanting—to go inside.

  She finally did, but just into the lobby area, which was unlocked but empty.

  That’s when her phone rang. It was Doug. “What the hell are you doing, Elissa?” he demanded.

  “I’ve got to talk to someone whose name I was given. It’s Jill from my classes, and I’m in her apartment building now. I’ve more information to tell you and—”

  “Wait right there. I’m on my way.”

  She promised she would wait inside the building lobby. He was right. He was the cop, and just because she was angry about what had been happening to her and now had the possibility of putting it to an end, it was his job.

  He joined her there quickly. They went outside for a few minutes with the dogs, and when Doug heard what she had to say, he grasped the point right away.

  “You could be right,” he said. “I’ll get an investigator here soon and go talk to Ms. Jacobs.”

  “Please...could I at least listen?”

  Doug glared at her. “And exactly who here is the police officer?”

  “You are,” she said softly. “But who here is the victim in all this?”

  His look softened and he shook his head gently. “You are. Okay. I’ll see what the situation looks like, and then determine if there’s a way for you to observe—although not much is likely to happen. Not now, at least. Maybe just some questions. That’ll have to be enough.”

  “It is,” she said. “Thank you.”

  His backup, including one other officer plus Maisie and Griffin, arrived within ten minutes. In the meantime people, who were likely residents, strolled into and out of the lobby appearing puzzled, but no one attempted to stay.

  Jill’s apartment was on the third floor and they used the elevators. Soon they were outside the subject’s apartment. Doug knocked on the door. “Jill Jacobs? This is the Chance Police Department. We need
to talk. Please open your door.”

  Nothing except Astro’s shrill barking.

  “I have her phone number,” Elissa whispered to Doug. “Do you want to call her or have me call her?”

  “Go ahead. We don’t know if she’s home, even though her dog apparently is.”

  No answer.

  Doug called out to her again as other tenants opened their doors and were shooed back into their units by Maisie and Griffin.

  Still no answer, but Doug tried the doorknob.

  Surprisingly the door opened. Doug motioned for Elissa to stay back as he and the other cops entered the way she had seen people acting like cops on TV did, guns drawn.

  Elissa recognized Maisie’s voice when she called, “Looks like we have a homicide here!”

  Elissa wasn’t permitted to enter even if she had wanted to. But she soon learned what was happening—somewhat.

  Jill Jacobs was, in fact, home. She had been murdered there.

  Elissa was not told any of the details.

  But Doug soon exited and faced her. “Were you up here before? Did you go inside?”

  “No!” She felt shocked that he would even ask.

  She was even more shocked at his follow-up. “I can’t tell you any details, Elissa. But there is a possible murder weapon there, as well as some other evidence. And—”

  “And?” she prompted.

  “It appears as though you were the perpetrator.”

  Chapter 19

  Yes, it damn well appeared that way, Doug thought angrily more than once that late afternoon.

  He was back at the station with Hooper. It was late in the day. Maisie and Griffin were there, too. Maisie had been the one to take charge of Elissa and her dog and bring them here.

  No, Elissa wasn’t under arrest...yet.

  But there were plenty of questions that needed to be answered before she could be released—assuming she wasn’t guilty. He believed for now, at least, that whoever had killed Jill Jacobs had also tried to frame Elissa. That made sense considering what she’d been going through and the kind of evidence found against her at the site.

  But he recognized that it could be his blasted attraction to the woman affecting his brain and not reality.

  Maisie had taken Elissa and Peace into an interrogation room. Doug had spoken briefly with both the chief and assistant chief about the situation and what he had seen at the murder site—though he hadn’t gone into detail, especially not regarding the evidence that seemed to point to Elissa. They had undoubtedly heard about it already.

  “Hi, Doug,” said a voice from behind him. “You ready? I understand you’ll be with me during this interrogation.”

  Doug turned to face Detective Vince Vanderhoff, who looked at him strangely through his glasses, as if he wanted to interrogate this fellow policeman, as well. But Doug got it. His attempts to help Elissa, though they were also for the benefit of the K-9 Ranch, had probably been a discussion point around the station—and if not before, then they would be now. And having a superior tell a detective what other cop would join him in an interrogation probably wasn’t among Vince’s favorite things to happen.

  “I’m ready,” he confirmed, and they both, along with Hooper, walked down the hall to the interrogation room. Vince asked a few questions to bring himself up to speed on what Doug had seen and experienced earlier, and Doug gave what answers he could.

  Fortunately, the chief, Sherm, had agreed with Doug’s request to be physically present during Elissa’s interrogation. Doug knew their suspect better than anyone else in the department and might come up with some questions, or answers, to help in the interview.

  Whether they would help the detective or Elissa most remained to be seen.

  The hallway held several doors leading to meeting rooms that mostly had one-way mirrors, allowing cops to observe through the window. As far as Doug knew, no one would be watching Elissa’s interrogation from outside, at least not this time.

  Vince opened the door and walked in, and Doug followed with Hooper.

  Elissa sat at the rectangular table in the middle of the room, with Peace lying on the floor and Maisie in the chair beside her. She must have left Griffin in their office. The two women were talking animatedly, and Doug wished he was in on the conversation.

  Presumably, they weren’t discussing this murder, since Maisie would know better than to talk with a suspect about it. But were they conversing about the threats against Elissa? Something unrelated? He supposed he would find out from one or the other later, and the subject probably wouldn’t have any effect on the results of this interrogation.

  “It’s time for me to leave.” Maisie rose as she caught Doug’s eye.

  He nodded. “See you later.” The unspoken meaning of his words was that he would be on the spot to tell his sister all that went on in this room while Elissa was being questioned, just as he could count on Maisie telling him what they’d talked about first—both as siblings and as cops.

  Vince took Maisie’s spot nearest Elissa at the table, and Doug sat on a chair across from her. Peace wagged her tail and traded nose sniffs with Hooper.

  Doug couldn’t quite read Elissa’s gaze but thought he saw both anger and pleading there, though only for a second. She turned to face Vince.

  The detective began fairly coolly, telling Elissa that she wasn’t under arrest but could have an attorney present if she wanted.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, and Doug hoped she was right.

  Vince then asked if Elissa knew Jill Jacobs. “Yes,” she responded. “I just met her recently, though. She is—was—a student in my class at the K-9 Ranch where I’m teaching therapy dog handlers.” She shook her head. “This is so sad, and so confusing.”

  Doug thought about telling Elissa just to answer the questions and not volunteer extra comments or information, but maybe her going further would show the high level of her cooperation. He knew that any attorney representing her would tell her to keep it simple, though.

  “Confusing how?” Vince prompted.

  Over the next few minutes Elissa described what had brought her to Jill’s apartment that day as Vince continued to ask questions.

  Doug got the answers he was looking for—sort of.

  Once she had heard that the person leaving the threatening sign on her SUV had been a woman—one she didn’t recognize when he showed her the dark and blurred footage—she’d started thinking about women who might be angry with her. Since she’d most likely lost her job at the SLO hospital, she doubted anyone from there who might have been jealous or unhappy with her for any reason would continue to harass her like that. The same thing applied regarding any competition from her dog therapy work around her former home.

  “But as I thought about the therapy I conducted there, something came to mind,” she said. “Something I considered way beyond logical—but there it was.” She described the situation she had mentioned before—a child who had died by falling out a window after a meeting with a therapy dog. “Peace and I had had a couple of sessions with the boy, whose name was Tully Willmer, a while before his death, but others holding dog therapy sessions at the hospital had seen him since. I was in touch with a couple of them at first, and both indicated that Tully’s mother, Adellaide, had unsurprisingly been distraught.

  “When I saw her recently, she was working on becoming a therapy dog handler herself, which I thought was a poignant way to deal with what had happened—but not if it was a cover for something else.”

  Elissa then described the brief phone conversation she’d had with Adellaide earlier that day. She’d still sounded sad but determined to handle her sorrow. Adellaide had also described breaking up with her husband Perry, a successful computer software engineer who had remained furious about the loss of their son—and had immediately found a new girlfriend. One who had recently moved to Chance, California,
and acquired a dog.

  That girlfriend was Jill Jacobs.

  Doug shuddered internally as he heard that. It gave Elissa a motive to kill the woman, if she believed Jill had been threatening her. Self defense? Maybe. But it would be hard to prove.

  On the other hand...where was Perry Willmer? Could he have killed his new girlfriend with the idea of framing Elissa?

  Or what about supposedly calm Adellaide?

  Either made a lot more sense to Doug than Elissa.

  The interrogation ended with a display of some of the evidence—including one of Elissa’s business cards as a nurse and therapy dog handler in San Luis Obispo. Her eyes grew huge and she looked at him. “Could the person who broke into my home in San Luis Obispo have stolen some of my cards? I hadn’t checked the drawers in the table in my spare bedroom, which I sometimes use as my office. That’s where I kept them.”

  “It’s a possibility.” Doug glanced at Vince to make sure he was listening.

  And since the murder weapon had been a scalpel—something a nurse could get hold of easily—the idea of someone, possibly Tully Willmer’s father or mother, framing her if they thought she might have been involved in their son’s death, made sorry sense.

  After the interrogation ended, Vince asked to speak with Doug outside the room. “The evidence pointing toward Elissa also seems to point to the possibility she’s being framed. I’m not going to arrest her now, but neither will she be off my radar.”

  “Got it,” Doug said, “and I agree.” He felt relieved—sort of. But if she wasn’t arrested and the killer knew it, Elissa could be in danger of worse than the harassment she’d been receiving.

  The kid’s father and mother had split up. Both had been, and probably still were, angry—notwithstanding whatever the mother was doing at the hospital now. The mother might have been responsive and calm when Elissa had spoken with her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t guilty. The Chance PD would have to request that the San Luis Obispo PD follow up on her.