Downfall (Matt Foley/Sara Bradford Series Book 3)

by V. B. Tenery

  Watts turned back and faced Matt. “Yeah, they’ll come down though. The plan is to clear the lakefront property first. That’s where we’ll start putting up homes as soon as it’s ready.”

  “Are they safe for us to go inside?”

  “They’re structurally sound,” Watts said. “But they’re a mess. A bunch of drunks and druggies have used them as crash pads.”

  “We’d like to take a look. Is that a problem?” Matt asked.

  “Knock yourself out.” He waved as if to say ‘They don’t pay me enough to do this job,” and walked back to his crew.

  Davis shook his head. “He thinks he has problems. Years of weather, people, and animals have erased any evidence there might have been here. You want to check out those buildings now?”

  “Yeah. It shouldn’t take long.”

  They trekked fifty yards uphill to the two structures. Davis moved up beside Matt as they stepped around the mud puddles that dotted the path. “What were they used for?”

  “For more than fifty years, twenty acres of this property belonged to the Twin Falls First Baptist Church. They sold it when the developer bought all the land around them. These buildings were a retreat. The two-story structure was a housing complex for guests, and the one-story was used as a fellowship hall for meetings and meals.”

  Davis raised an eyebrow. “What’s a retreat?”

  Matt’s gaze swept the property. The grass came up to his knees, most of the windows were broken, and a tree had fallen against the roof. “It was a place for people to get away from telephones and televisions, to reconnect with each other and God. As a kid, I used to come here for summer camp. It looked a lot different then.”

  The apartment’s outer door clung to its upright position by a single loose hinge. Matt shoved the door open and kicked trash out of the way. Inside, a wide hallway ended at the stairs that led to the second floor. There were eight bedrooms on each side of the corridor, all with built-in bunk beds. The same upstairs, six bunks per room.

  He and Davis checked the downstairs. The foreman was right. Empty wine bottles and drug paraphernalia were scattered on the bare wood floors.

  Deep down, it squeezed Matt’s gut to see the place in such disrepair. He’d spent some of the happiest times of his childhood here. At the last upstairs bedroom on the west side, he stepped to the window and stopped. “Davis, come look at this.”

  The detective’s footsteps sounded in the hallway. “You find something, Chief?”

  “Take a look.”

  Davis entered and stepped to the window. “What?”

  Matt moved aside so Davis could get a closer look. “That’s a perfect view of the burial site from here. Have Mac get some pictures. When we find out who our victim was, someone may have seen something. It’s worth a shot.”

  After a baleful glance at the debris on the floor, Davis rubbed both hands down his face. “McCulloch will have to bag and catalog all this stuff just in case we get a suspect.”

  Matt grinned. “It’s a long shot, but if it was easy…”

  “I know, I know…anybody could do it.”

  Matt slapped his shoulder. “You’re learning.”

  The CSU Chief met them as they came back down the hill. “We’re outta here. The weather forecast looks better tomorrow, and it’ll give this place some time to dry out. I’ll bring some extra help from the lab, maybe some college kids I know, and we’ll do a grid search. We’ll be here by first light.” He glanced at Davis. “You gonna leave people to guard the site until we return in the morning?”

  “Yeah. Probably not necessary but I’d rather be safe. Mac, before you leave, I have a job you’re gonna love.” He led Mac towards the retreat.

  Joe Wilson came forward as Matt reached the crime scene. The sheriff stopped, removed his hat, and smacked it against his leg before replacing it. “I’m heading out. I’ll give you a hand with the authorities in surrounding areas. Ask them to check old files for missing children.”

  “Thanks. That’ll save us some time.”

  “Tell that housekeeper of yours to throw an extra potato in the pot, and I’ll come to dinner one night.” He took two steps then turned back. “Even better, you can buy me a steak at Ruth’s Chris.”

  Joe crunched a foam cup in his big fist and handed the trash to Hunter who had just joined them. “Here, hold this.”

  Hunter took it then stood there, glanced at the crumpled cup in his hand, and shook his head.

  Matt grinned. “I’ll give you a ring.”

  The lab techs began to pack away their gear, and Matt plodded back to his vehicle.

  When he reached the truck, Lisa leaned against the door. She backed away with slow, easy grace. “I didn’t expect to see you today, Matt. You haven’t been around much lately.”

  “I’ve been busy. How’s Paul?”

  “He’s fine.” Her tone held a slight edge. “He asks about you often. The other kids were impressed the police chief came to watch his games.”

  Matt attended a few of Paul’s little league games in the summer, but stopped when Lisa’s attraction to him became apparent. Divorced from Paul’s father only a few months, she was vulnerable. Not a situation he could handle right now. Besides, involvement with someone he worked with was asking for trouble.

  His hand closed around the door handle. “Tell Paul I’ll try to catch a game soon.”

  Davis shouted Lisa’s name. She gave him a wave of acknowledgment and called back to Matt as she departed, “Better hurry. There’s only one left on the fall schedule.”

  He started the ignition and watched Lisa walk away.

  Joe came into view as Matt backed out. The sheriff stood beside his cruiser. His gaze followed Lisa Martinez with an expression Matt hadn’t noticed before. Joe and Lisa? Funny, he’d never have put those two together. Joe, laid back and easy going. Lisa, volatile as a firecracker. Another reason to avoid the woman. He didn’t want to get in his old friend’s way.

  Matt pushed the hood of his slicker back and stared at the horizon. The deaths of children haunted his dreams long after the cases ended—ghosts that took up permanent residence.

  Mist swallowed the scene behind him as he drove back across the aqueduct. The last sound that drifted through the open vent was a chorus of katydids―singing a requiem for a fallen child.

  Works of Darkness: Chapter 2

  Twin Falls Police Station

  At ten o’clock, Matt turned onto the county road that passed the site from which the city had taken its name. The falls had lain dormant for fifty years after an upstream dam diverted the tributary that fed them. Embarrassed by the poor condition of the town’s namesake, city leaders took action six months ago, starting a water re-circulation project now hidden behind a white construction fence. Friday, water would once again flow freely over the historic site. The unveiling would take place tomorrow, with a full-scale celebration banquet at the country club Saturday.

  Matt merged with the traffic on I-75, the expressway that separated the haves from the have-nots in his town. The courthouse and police station sat in the older, less-affluent side of the city.

  Traffic around the square brought him to a standstill. The somber scene at Bay Harbor claimed his thoughts, triggering a memory. When his life spiraled out of control two years ago, he’d spent many nights at the station unable to be alone at home with the memories. He’d brought Rowdy’s bed to the office to keep him company. The job kept him focused—gave him a reason to keep going. Despair had led him to the cold case files.

  Not many murders in his town. Domestic violence accounted for the four or five annual homicides. The old files had turned up two unsolved cases.

  The most recent, Joshua Bradford. Killed four years ago in a hit-and-run accident. That happened on his watch. His only contribution to the cold case files. The second, a six-year-old girl who’d disappeared twenty-five years ago, long before he’d become chief.

  He’d spent a lot of time playing “what if” with those cas
es, especially the Bradford accident. It wouldn’t be ignored, like a fever blister he kept running his tongue over.

  Matt hated loose ends. Even more, he hated that a killer still walked the streets.

  He parked behind the station at his private entrance. Still early, the station looked almost empty. Administrative help had arrived, but the day watch officers had already hit the streets.

  In route to his office he stopped for a cup of coffee, and got lucky. Someone had brought in a box of donuts. He tossed a five-dollar bill in the kitty and took two.

  Seated at his desk, he ran a finger under his shirt collar, wiggled his tie loose, and sipped coffee while he waited for the computer to accept his password. After a moment, the unsolved case files flashed on the screen. He found the Pryor file in the database then strode down the corridor to pick up the casebook.

  It took twenty minutes to find the notebook on a dusty, bottom shelf. He wiped the cover with his handkerchief and returned to his office. He put the book down on his desk, then checked his voicemail for messages. He was clear.

  Matt flipped through the familiar pages. The book held all the notes from the original investigation, complete with the child’s grade-school photo and a list of the witnesses interviewed the night she’d vanished. The timeframe was right. And the age and sex were consistent with the evidence from the gravesite. Including descriptions of the clothing she wore. Looked like their victim was Penny Pryor, but the dental records could confirm or dismiss it.

  Thumbing through the witness list, two names caught his attention. Brandt Michael Ferrell, Texas’ newly elected governor, and Sara Taylor, widow of Joshua Bradford. Taylor was Sara’s maiden name.

  Sara Taylor was six at the time the girl vanished, and now the primary suspect in the hit-and-run death of her husband. Matt just hadn’t been able to prove it.

  Book in hand, he carried it upstairs to the Detective Bureau on the second floor. The room was large, furnished with desks for the four investigators, three males and one female.

  Even though most crimes happened at night, detectives worked days, and rotated for night call-outs. They worked days as support branches, such as the coroner, technicians, and labs were on eight to five schedules.

  He found Miles Davis and Chris Hunter at their desks, and handed the book to Davis. Matt tapped the cover. “Looks like this is our victim.”

  Davis’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “How’d you find it so fast?”

  “The crime scene rang a bell and I know the cold case files like the back of my hand. When do you want to speak to the parents?”

  “Hunter and I can handle it, Chief, unless you just want to be there.”

  “I need to be involved in this one, Miles. Penny was the niece of Brandt Ferrell, our esteemed governor.”

  Home of Sam and Lily Pryor

  Matt dreaded next-of-kin notifications. It was the most difficult part of being a cop. No matter how many times he’d tackled them, they never got easier. And those involving children were the worst of the worst.

  He and Davis parked on the street in front of the Pryor’s two-story brick home in an older, but still exclusive, part of town. Tall pointed cedars formed privacy walls on both sides of the property. Thick Bermuda grass lay across the lawn like a soft green carpet.

  Matt glanced at his watch. Past six in the evening. They had waited to give Sam Pryor time to get home so his wife wouldn’t be alone to get the bad news.

  They got out of the car, Davis carrying his briefcase with the items for identification. When they reached the door, Matt rang the bell. The photo image of Penny’s pert face flashed before him. A pretty little girl with red hair and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose—an innocent upward tilt of her lips revealed a gap-toothed smile. The face of a future unfulfilled.

  What had it been like for Sam and Lily Pryor to lose this child, have her disappear for a quarter century? To always wonder what happened, hoping she was alive somewhere? To wonder what kind of woman she might have become? He couldn’t imagine the pain that must have caused.

  He started to ring the bell again when the door opened. The woman in the entryway was too thin, but attractive in a fragile kind of way, with curly red hair and blue eyes. Eyes the same color as Penny’s.

  “Mrs. Pryor?”

  “Yes. May I help you?”

  “Mrs. Pryor, I’m Chief of Police Matthew Foley, and this is Detective Miles Davis. We’d like to speak to you and your husband for a moment. May we come in?”

  He held out his badge wallet.

  She stood in the doorway, not moving, eyes wide and unfocused. She stepped back and gripped the door handle, her voice almost a whisper. “You’ve found Penny.”

  The view through the door revealed an open floor plan of the kitchen, dining room, and living room. A slender man with glasses and receding dark hair stepped away from the kitchen sink and came towards them. “Lily, what’s wrong?”

  “Sam—”

  Sam Pryor quick-stepped to the door, and Matt reintroduced himself and Davis. “May we come in, sir? It would be better if we discuss the purpose of our visit inside.”

  She moved farther back into the entrance and cast an imploring glance at her husband. “Sam...it’s about Penny.”

  Sam Pryor moved closer to his wife and put his arm around her. “Please, come in. My wife seems to be in shock. Is it true? Have you found Penny?”

  He led his wife to the sofa and offered them a seat with a wave of his hand. “Is she... alive?”

  Lily’s eyes welled with tears, her face flush with emotion. Her shaken husband embraced her and tried to maintain a brave face for his wife. “We haven’t heard from the police in years…it might not be Penny.”

  “I’m sorry. We think the remains found this morning may be your daughter.” Davis opened the attaché lid and brought out the three colored photographs of the victims clothing and ring. “I know this is difficult, but can you identify these items? Did they belong to your daughter?”

  Sam took the photo of the ring. He stood and walked to the window. He cleared his throat, his voice husky, but didn’t turn around when he spoke. “This is her ring. We bought it for her sixth birthday.”

  Lily had taken the other shots. She clutched them to her chest and rocked back and forth, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  As gently as possible, Matt asked, “Are those Penny’s?”

  She nodded.

  Sam seemed to realize he’d left Lily alone. He came back to her side and lifted his gaze. “Where—”

  “The Bay Harbor construction site,” Davis said. “You know where that is?”

  “Yes. It used to be a church retreat.” Sam pulled his wife close. “I’d heard they sold the property.”

  Davis collected the photographs and placed them back in the briefcase. “We’ll return the ring to you as soon as we can, but for the present, it’s evidence. This is the home you lived in when your daughter disappeared?”

  Lily wrapped thin fingers around her husband’s arm and spoke in a near whisper. “We decided not to sell. Afraid Penny would return someday...and be unable to find us.”

  “We have just a few more things to cover before we’re finished,” Matt said. “Can you get us the name of Penny’s dentist, and the names of any neighbors who lived here when your daughter disappeared? You can email it to Detective Davis when you have the information.”

  Davis handed Sam his business card.

  He took the card, glanced at Davis, then back at Matt. “When can we claim the...her?”

  “As soon as the coroner is finished.” Matt shook his hand. “I’ll give you a call.”

  He and Davis stood. Matt reached in his jacket pocket and handed Sam his business card. “I’m sorry for your loss. This is my personal cell phone number. Please call me if there’s anything we can do to help.”

  Sam nodded and placed the cards on the coffee table.

  “We’ll let ourselves out.”

  Penny’s parents sat h
uddled together on the sofa, as Matt closed the door softly behind him. Lily’s soft sobs followed them out.

  He and Davis drove back to the station in silence.

  Works of Darkness: Chapter 3

  Global Optics

  Cloaked by the downpour, the man sat in the car and sipped his black Starbuck’s Pike Place. While he watched Sara Bradford enter the building, people went in and out of the Global lobby.

  Discovery of the child’s body yesterday had forced him into a decision he’d hoped never to make. Sara held his future in her hands though she wasn’t aware of the knowledge tucked inside her head. Too bad. Really. He’d grown fond of her. She had matured into an intelligent, beautiful woman.

  Safe for so long, he’d been lulled into believing no one would ever know—the secret would go to the grave with him. But the gods of fate decided otherwise.

  He rotated his neck to ease the tight muscles, stiff from his painstaking work last night, and the job he’d assigned himself today. Taking a human life was never easy, but it wouldn’t be his first time. He’d do what must be done to protect the life he’d built.

  Lightning flashed across the dark sky, illuminating the interior of the car. In the brief glare, he caught sight of his reflection in the rearview mirror and realized he no longer knew the stone, gray face that stared back at him.

  Works of Darkness:

  Chapter 4

  Global, Optics

  Sara Bradford shook her head. Some days you get roses, some days you get thorns. No roses today.

  Traffic routed around the wreck on the rain-slicked freeway made her twenty minutes late to work. She hated being tardy. Punctuality was encoded into her genes at birth. A gift from her father.

  She hurried through the lobby and into the skywalk separating the distribution center from the home office complex. Rain misted the walkway’s windows but didn’t conceal the threatening sky that hovered outside.