Cold Case Cover-Up

by Virginia Vaughan

  Quinn knew Rich’s logical mind would have a difficult time with the notion that someone could sense danger around them, but he’d never been in combat, where a person’s instincts were often their best ally, and he’d had very few dangerous encounters during his time with the West Bend sheriff’s office.

  “Have you ever had this feeling before you came to town?”

  “Not that I can recall.”

  “You’re a beautiful lady, plus like you said, you’re on TV. Have you ever had a stalker?”

  “I know we’ve had some creepy letters sent to the station, but I’ve never had anything like these threats before.” She seemed to understand what his questions were leading to. “You think someone followed me to town, don’t you?”

  “That’s one possibility. Another is that someone here in town has become obsessed with you because of your celebrity.”

  “No, this has something to do with the Renfield case. Don’t you see that ever since I started digging in to the case, the threats began?”

  “Who would threaten you over that?”

  “Someone who knew Alicia Renfield didn’t die that night thirty years ago.”

  Quinn was surprised Dana admitted that, but not nearly as shocked as his brother. Rich’s eyes widened and he glanced at Quinn, probably thinking this revelation had come out of the blue. He stood to leave. “That’s an interesting notion, Miss Lang, but—”

  “I’m Alicia Renfield.” She stood to face him, jutted out her chin and folded her arms.

  He gave her a skeptical look then shook his head, dismissing the idea. “No, you’re not. Is this some kind of ploy? Are you trying to get more exposure for your show?”

  “This has nothing to do with my show. I was abandoned as a baby at a church sixty miles from here just days after Alicia Renfield supposedly died. Whoever placed me there left a note. I found that note last week while going through my adoptive mother’s belongings. There was also a letter from the preacher who arranged my adoption. The note was written in your grandfather’s handwriting.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true, Rich,” Quinn chimed in as he stood up. “I saw it when I responded to the first break-in. I couldn’t believe it at first. I even looked at the dedication he wrote in my bible. It was definitely Grandpa’s writing.”

  “Which means your grandfather somehow saved me from that fire, then faked my death and covered it up.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Rich looked at Quinn. “You aren’t buying in to this story, are you? Grandpa wouldn’t have done something like that.”

  “I think he did,” Quinn confessed. “And the fact that someone is now trying to stop Dana from investigating proves he was right to do it.”

  He could see the wheels in Rich’s mind spinning. “Who else knows about this?”

  “No one, as far as I know, except the person who broke in and saw the letter. I haven’t shown it to anyone except Quinn, who saw the copy pinned to my wall. I have the originals in my briefcase. Come upstairs with me and let me prove it to you.”

  Rich stared at her for several moments, and Quinn couldn’t tell what he was going to do. He knew his brother, and Rich was thinking the most logical choice had to be the correct one until the evidence pointed him in another direction. Finally, he shook his head. “I’ll look at your evidence, Miss Lang, but that doesn’t mean I’m buying in to this story. If someone is targeting you, it’s because of something happening now, not something that happened a lifetime ago.” He closed his notebook and slipped it into his pocket. “You can send whatever you want me to see with my brother while I go do some investigating. Don’t worry. We’ll catch this guy and you’ll see it has nothing to do with that case.”

  He walked away, stopping to chat with a member of the forensics team who’d come downstairs.

  She watched him walk away. “He doesn’t believe me.”

  “He’s a good cop and he’ll do whatever he can to find the person who’s trying to harm you, even if he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the case.”

  She turned and stared at him, her brown eyes pleading. “Do you believe me, Quinn?”

  He looked at her and couldn’t lie. Instead, he took her elbow. “Let me walk you back upstairs and make sure you’re locked safely inside.”

  Disappointment glowed in her eyes, but she didn’t press him for an answer. She allowed him to lead her upstairs. He checked her room, then said goodbye at the door before she closed it and he heard the locks click into place.

  The truth was, he wasn’t sure whether all this had anything to do with the Renfield case. Rich’s scenario made sense and had planted doubts in his mind about the attacker’s motivations. All he knew for certain was that someone was out to frighten and impede Dana Lang, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that didn’t happen.

  * * *

  Dana paced back and forth in her hotel room. She’d already showered, doing her best to wash off the icky feeling she’d gotten from this day. She stopped in front of the mirror and stared at the bruises that were forming on her neck where the attacker had grabbed her. She remembered the feel of his hot breath as he whispered his threat into her ear. You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll pack up and leave town today. She shuddered at that memory, then grabbed her laptop and tried to turn her concentration toward work. She had several emails from her producer she needed to take care of, and it was the perfect excuse to get her mind off her day.

  Had she made a mistake in coming here?

  That thought raced through her mind even as she tried to push it away. She didn’t want to go down that road. Finally, after several false starts on an email, she set aside her laptop. She wasn’t going to get any work done tonight. She couldn’t concentrate. She was too keyed up. She longed to walk down the street to the coffee shop for a drink and a muffin, but fear of doing so stopped her. Besides, this wasn’t the big city. She doubted the coffee shop was even open this time of night. She hated the fear that raced through her at the thought of walking out of this hotel alone. It made her feel weak, like a captive. She needed something—anything—that would make her feel normal again.

  The bible on the nightstand called to her. She wished she could pick it up and find comfort in its words the way she’d heard so many people claim they did. She’d interviewed countless people whose faith had seen them through great losses. But God had never been on Dana’s side. He’d allowed terrible things to alter her life. Her father’s death. Her mother’s distance. Even Jason’s empty promises that had left her shattered. And now learning she’d been given away as an infant. What kind of God would leave her so alone in life?

  She grabbed her phone. She wanted to talk to someone and knew Tracy would still be up. She was a night owl that rarely slept. She quickly dialed the number and was relieved when her friend answered.

  “How’s it going, Dana?” Tracy asked in her usual sunny voice.

  Dana suddenly realized she couldn’t tell Tracy what had been happening. Her friend would insist that Dana return home immediately and she wasn’t going to do that. “I’m restless,” she said instead. “Can’t sleep. Tell me what’s been going on with you?”

  Her friend told her about several funny incidents that had happened to her the last few days and listening to her chatter energized Dana and gave her a renewed confidence about what she was doing. She’d come here for answers and she was going to get them no matter what.

  She wouldn’t allow someone with a grudge against her, or something to hide, stop her from finding out the truth about her identity.

  “What’s going on with you?” Tracy asked. “How is your investigation going?”

  She hadn’t told anyone in her life, not even Tracy, about finding the stash in her mother’s belongings and learning she’d been abandoned as an infant, or abo
ut her search to find her heritage. It was a secret she’d carried alone. Instead, she’d told her friends only that she was taking some time off to investigate a cold case that might make a good segment for her show. She also might have let them believe she needed some time to herself after her breakup with Jason. It was as good an excuse as any.

  “Everything is fine. I’m not making as much progress as I’d hoped, but I have met some—” she thought about Quinn and smiled “—interesting people.”

  “Ooh, do tell. Anyone tall, dark and handsome?”

  Again, Quinn’s image popped into her mind. She hesitated a moment too long on his image and Tracy squealed. “You did meet someone, didn’t you? Tell me everything.”

  “His name is Quinn Dawson. He’s a reserve deputy with the local sheriff’s office. He’s very nice.” He was also a mystery she would love to get to know better.

  “A reserve deputy, huh? What does he do the rest of the time?”

  “Private security, I think. He’s obviously former military, but he’s weirdly secretive about it.”

  “That sound ominous. Do I need to run a background on this new guy?”

  Her friend was just being overprotective, knowing how Jason had broken her heart. “No, it’s fine. We only met two days ago. That’s not quite time enough to reveal deepest, darkest secrets to one another.” But she had, in fact, revealed her deepest, darkest secret to him.

  “I should try to get some sleep,” she finally told Tracy.

  “Maybe tomorrow will be a better day,” her friend said and she couldn’t agree more with the sentiment.

  After all, it couldn’t get any worse...unless she was killed.

  * * *

  Quinn hung up the phone at his desk in the sheriff’s office and rubbed a weary hand over his face. He’d had a busy night following up on Rich’s stalker theory. He’d talked to the local precinct in Chicago, the head of security at the studio where Dana worked and even with her producer at the television station. He’d found no evidence of threatening letters, phone calls, or inappropriate communication to Dana that might signal she had a stalker. It looked like the stalker theory was a dead end. Whatever these threats were about, they’d originated in West Bend.

  He rocked backward in his chair as he ran through what he knew for the umpteenth time. Someone in his city wanted Dana to stop looking in to things that weren’t her business, but all she was investigating was the Renfield murders. Was it really possible that after thirty years someone in town had something to hide about that night?

  He sat up straight and keyed the name Renfield into the database on his computer. It was time he took a closer look at that case. Maybe it had nothing at all to do with Dana’s attacks, but he wasn’t going to leave any stone unturned until he found out who was threatening her and why. A message popped up alerting him that a digital file on the Renfield case wasn’t available. He’d have to pull the paper file. He jotted down the case number, then glanced at the time on his phone and realized it was after 1:00 a.m. No one would be in the records department until Beverly Shorter, the documents clerk, arrived at seven. He could ask the deputy in charge to be let in, but since it wasn’t an active case, Quinn doubted he would approve it. Besides, a thirty-year-old case file would likely be boxed up in storage. No, he would have to wait until Beverly arrived in the morning to help him find it.

  He shut down his computer then headed home. He had time to catch a few hours of sleep, shower and shave, and return by the time Beverly showed up for work.

  She was already there when he got back to the station and walked downstairs to the records room. He’d needed those few hours of sleep but couldn’t wait to get his hands on the Renfield file.

  She greeted him with a smile. “Good morning, Quinn. What can I help you with today?”

  He’d known Beverly Shorter all his life. She’d been the file clerk in this office since his grandfather’s time. “I need you to pull a file for me.” He handed her the slip with the case number.

  “Sure thing, hon. How’s your mom doing?”

  “She’s doing good.”

  Beverly frowned at her computer. “Oh, dear, there’s a flag on this file.” She slipped the paper with the case number back to him. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Your father has to approve all requests to see this file.”

  The sheriff had to approve someone looking at a thirty-year-old case file? That seemed odd. Quinn wondered if Dana’s visit to the precinct had anything to do with it. “When was that case flagged, Beverly?” he asked, fully expecting her to give yesterday’s date.

  “Looks like almost eleven years ago. Practically since the first day your father took office. I’ll need his approval to release it.”

  Quinn was stunned by this new development. Why had his father flagged that file all those years ago? If it had been yesterday, he might understand, but eleven years earlier? What did that mean?

  “I’ll be back,” he told her, then walked upstairs.

  He knocked on his dad’s office door then poked his head inside when his father’s commanding voice shouted, “Enter.”

  “Do you have a minute?” Quinn asked him.

  He turned from his computer. “Sure, what is it?”

  “I need your approval to pull this case file.”

  His father took the number and typed it into the computer. He frowned when he saw which case Quinn wanted. “Why are you trying to pull the Renfield case? Does this have to do with that reporter?”

  “She’s been threatened and attacked multiple times already. I can’t find any evidence that this was occurring before she came to town and the Renfield case is the only one she’s looking in to. I thought I might find some connection if I examined the file.”

  “You won’t find what you need in there.”

  “How do you know I won’t?”

  “Trust me, I know. There’s nothing in that file that’s going to lead you anywhere.”

  “I still want to see it for myself.”

  His father sighed, then picked up the handset of his desk phone and dialed an extension. “Beverly, will you bring me the Renfield file, please? Thank you.” He hung up and glanced at Quinn. “Are you sure you want to go down this road?”

  “Someone’s after her. I can’t sit back and do nothing.”

  “Your brother tells me you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with that reporter. That’s not wise, Quinn.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know.” He didn’t need to be reminded that he was flirting with danger. But he couldn’t let her deal with this alone. What if the next time her attacker came, it was to do more than just threaten her? “She’s all alone here. I know what that feels like.”

  His father stood and touched Quinn’s shoulder. “Son, you’ve never been alone here.”

  Physically, his father was right. He had family surrounding him, there for him whenever he needed, but none of them had a clue what he’d been through. They didn’t know how to relate to his experiences of fighting for his life or losing his best friend.

  Beverly knocked on the door and walked inside, file in hand. “Here you go. This is all we have on the Renfield case.”

  She handed it to the sheriff, who passed it to Quinn. He took it, noting how thin it seemed. He opened it, expecting notes, photos, forensic reports. Instead, it was empty.

  He glanced at his father, then at Beverly. “Is this a joke? Where is the file?”

  His father nodded at Beverly that it was okay to leave. When the door closed behind her, he returned to his desk and sat down. “It’s missing. We don’t know what happened to it. All the evidence is gone, too. My first day in office, I pulled that file. It was like that then.”

  Quinn was outraged. “How could this happen? There must have been a ton of evidence and reports collected. There had to have been more than this.”

&nbs
p; “I’m sure there was, but it’s all gone now. I don’t know who did it or why, but it’s gone.”

  He looked at his father, curiosity piquing his interest. “Why did you pull that file when you took office?”

  His dad leaned across the desk and sighed. “Because Paul Renfield was my friend and I never in my heart truly believed he could do something so heinous. I wanted to see the evidence, examine it piece by piece, and decide for myself if he was guilty. I want to believe that file was misplaced and the evidence was lost accidentally. This case hit many people personally. I can see how papers could get scattered after being examined by numerous eyes, but everything? That’s difficult for me to believe.”

  “You suspect someone intentionally destroyed that file?”

  “I don’t know, Quinn. I just don’t know.”

  “Is that what Grandpa thought, too? He never discussed the case with me.” Now Quinn wished he’d pressed his grandfather for more information about the case that had haunted him, but each time he’d asked about it, his grandfather had steered the conversation elsewhere. He’d always assumed it was to protect Quinn from the horror of knowing the realities of life and death, but now Quinn wondered if it wasn’t more than that. Had he also been protecting himself from something he’d done?

  “Your grandfather never discussed the case with me, but I know the files were there when he was in office. I saw him with them. I looked through them myself then, but I was only a young deputy and other, more senior investigators were handling the case.”

  Quinn left his father’s office, feeling discouraged and confused. Why would someone want to remove all the information from the case file? It didn’t make any sense. How would the case ever be solved or prosecuted now, assuming the perpetrator was found?

  He walked outside but didn’t head for his truck. He needed to walk to clear his mind so he could process what he’d just learned. It didn’t make sense. Had those files accidentally been tossed out? Or had it been a deliberate act to cover up something that someone didn’t want known?