Don’t Tell A Soul: A gripping crime thriller that will have you hooked

by D. K. Hood

  “Get onto it straight away.” She waved him away then noticed the trail of dried mud in his wake. “Hey.”

  “Yes, Sheriff?” Daniels gave her the sweetest smile.

  “Maggie will get mad if she sees you dropping dirt all over the floor; go and clean your boots.”

  “Sure thing.” Daniels peered at his feet then shrugged. “I was out cleaning the roadway early this morning. I didn’t have time to change. Sorry, ma’am.”

  She turned her attention to Walters. “Did you get the paperwork filed for John Helms’s bank and phone records?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I have the warrant but I haven’t had time to look at them yet. I’ve been dealing with complaints about closing the landfill. Brinks has been on my back all morning. When will it reopen?”

  “Not today. I’ll tell Maggie to handle the calls on the switch. Get onto those records for me.”

  “Right away.” Walters turned to leave. “Do you think Helms might be the murder victim?”

  Jenna drew a deep breath. “I have no idea but I hope not. With any luck, someone may have picked our town as the perfect place to dump a body.”

  “I guess so.” Walters frowned. “From what Brinks said it wasn’t pretty.”

  Great, Brinks is blabbing all around town already. Jenna stared at him. “I don’t have any details and I’m sure Mr. Brinks is prone to exaggeration. As far as I’m aware, he didn’t get close enough to the body to make any observations.”

  “He was babbling some on the phone.” Walters shrugged. “If he calls again I’ll tell him to keep quiet.” He scratched his chin and stared at her. “It may well be an out-of-towner disposing a body.”

  Jenna raked her fingers through her hair. If not, we have a sadistic killer in Black Rock Falls and I’m on his list.

  Twenty-Nine

  After trying Father Maguire’s number and getting no reply, Kane checked through old files. His attention centered on cases involving the residents of Black Rock Falls before Jenna took over as sheriff. He flagged reports which involved current suspects. During his search, he discovered Woodward and Helms had not been the only people to go missing. Three people of vastly different ages had disappeared without a trace the year before Jenna took office. He pushed both hands through his hair in dismay. The files held missing persons’ reports filed by family members without follow-up information, as if no investigation had taken place. He read each case with incredulity. The circumstances mirrored the current missing persons’ files. Glancing down at Walters’ name on the report, he rubbed his chin. Walters had not mentioned there had been similar cases in the past. He pushed to his feet and strolled to Deputy Walters’ desk. “Do you remember working on a couple of missing persons’ cases about three years ago?”

  Walters spun around in his chair and observed him over the top of his half-moon spectacles with a surprised expression.

  “I do recall filing the reports.” His dark eyes narrowed. “I didn’t handle the investigations. If I recall, I took my vacation around that time. I gather the people showed up as nothing was mentioned to me when I returned.”

  “Maybe, but there’s nothing reflecting the outcome in the files. If they turned up safe and well, someone should have closed the cases.” Kane leaned one hip on his desk. “Who else worked here at the time, maybe I can follow up with them?”

  “No one alive, I’m afraid.” Walters let out a long sigh. “Sheriff Mitcham passed three months before Sheriff Alton took over and Deputy Andy Bristow was killed in a boating accident on his vacation summer before last.”

  How convenient. The link between the current cases was too significant to ignore. He shook his head. “Okay, thanks. Another thing—do you recall a man by the name of Stan Clough? He was involved in an animal cruelty case.”

  “Sure do.” The old man shook his head slowly. “Sick bastard. Come to think about it, I saw him in town the other day.” He scratched his graying hair. “Let me see. The day before you arrived, he was in Aunt Betty’s Café. I guess he comes into town to pick up supplies for his stock.”

  “He is allowed to keep animals after serving time for animal cruelty?”

  “Seems so. I heard he was looking to buy a piggery.” Walters peered at him over the top of his glasses. “He put his ranch on the market to pay for his lawyer but he only spent six months in jail. Got time off for good behavior. The sheriff should know where he is living, they send a notice when prisoners are released.”

  “She doesn’t have a current address. Can you find out where he is living? I need to pay him a visit.”

  “Sure thing.” Walters made notes then lifted his gray head to look at him. “I’m collating the bank and phone information on the Helms case and will have it for you this afternoon.”

  Kane straightened. “Great.” He strolled back to his desk and sat down.

  He would need to make enquiries about the previous missing persons. If the people had turned up, fine, but if not, he might have a bigger problem on his hands. He reached for the phone. A few quick calls would put his mind at rest but before he dialed the first number, he glanced at Alton’s office door and disconnected. He strolled into Alton’s office. “Is it okay if I check out the old missing persons’ files?”

  “Delegate.” Jenna pushed a lock of black hair behind one ear and frowned at him. “I want you to concentrate on identifying the body in the barrel then what Stan Clough has been doing since he left prison.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He strolled back to his alcove.

  Okay, I’ll delegate. He waved Daniels over to his desk. “There are open missing persons’ files, from three years ago. Make a few calls and find out if the cases are current. It could be an oversight but I need to know. If they are closed, sign off on them, okay?” He jotted down the file numbers. “If they are still listed as missing, let me and Sheriff Alton know.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll get onto it as soon as Maggie gets back. I’m on front desk duty at the moment.” Daniels took the note and strolled to the front desk.

  Kane glanced up to see Rowley hovering by his booth. “Yeah?”

  “We were scheduled to take lunch over one hour ago. I’m waiting for Sarah Woodward to return my call, so I can slip out now. You coming?”

  Kane turned off his computer and stood. “Sure. I’m hitting brick walls with the priest as well.” He motioned with his chin toward an elderly woman at the reception desk holding a dog dressed in a tartan coat. “I guess we should wait and deal with her complaint? She looks like she’s giving Daniels a hard time.”

  “Walters usually handles her problems. Mrs. Gilly doesn’t like speaking to young whippersnappers.” Rowley chuckled. “I’m sure Pete needs the experience.”

  * * *

  After lunch, Kane picked up the telephone and tried to reach Father Maguire again without success. He left his name and contact number with a brief message to contact him urgently, then spent the next hour doing background checks and creating files on Jenna’s list of suspects. He sent copies to himself and Alton. As he had nothing else to occupy his time in the evenings, he could work on them at home. The heat in the office made him drowsy and he stretched out his legs and yawned. He waited for the files to upload and noticed Rowley leaning back in his chair, staring at his phone. “Did you hear back from Miss Woodward?”

  “Nope, the call went straight to voicemail.” Rowley stood and ambled over to his booth. “I rang the motel where she is staying and asked them to put me through to her room. They refused and said she has a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on her door. They said her vehicle drove out this morning and the sign went up sometime after, so they assume she left the car somewhere and returned on foot.” He rubbed his chin. “Do you think I should drop by and see if she’s okay?”

  A prickle of warning raced up Kane’s spine. “Her car broke down on Saturday night and she did mention having her vehicle serviced today. Maybe someone from the garage picked it up.” He pushed to his feet. “Since people seem to have a habit of going
missing of late, we’d better haul ass over there and check. I’m worried about her.”

  Thirty

  Kane headed for the door, snatching his coat from the peg on the way out. “We’ll go in your cruiser.” He led the way out the door and down the street to Rowley’s police vehicle. The comfortable warm glow he enjoyed from the office vanished with the first blast of arctic wind. He pulled on his woolen cap and tried to stop his teeth chattering. He flicked Rowley a glance. “Do you know the owner of the motel?”

  “Yeah, it’s been owned by the Ricker family for as long as I remember.” Rowley slid into the driver’s seat then gave him a worried look. “Oh, sorry, sir. Do you mind if I drive?”

  “No, it will be good to ride shotgun for a change.” Kane climbed into the car and leaned back in the seat. “Talking of weapons… I noticed Sheriff Alton wasn’t carrying a rifle in her vehicle at the time of the incident. You carry a backup weapon, I assume, and vests?”

  “No weapons in the cruisers, no.” Rowley shot him a glance. “They’re locked up in the sheriff’s office. The metal cupboard at the back of the room.”

  I’m going to have to take this up with Jenna tonight.

  A few moments later, Rowley turned the car into the motel parking lot and pulled up in front of the office. “I’ll go and find out the number of Miss Woodward’s room.”

  “We should both speak to the owner.” Kane got out the car and scanned the immediate area.

  He noticed the lack of CT cameras and the two cars parked outside the dozen or so motel rooms. The parking lot had seen a lot of traffic over the last few days, going on the coating of gray slush. A curtain moved in one of the units and a face peered at him through a condensation-soaked window then stepped back out of sight. Taking a mental note of the unit number, he strolled around the hood of the cruiser and followed Rowley inside the office. The door shut behind him with a loud buzz and the heavy stink of cigars seared his nostrils. Moments later, a man emerged from the back room in a cloud of smoke. A TV commercial for beer blared out from behind him and a woman with makeup applied with a trowel sashayed past the door singing an old 1960’s rock song.

  Kane moved to the front desk, keeping his hands on his waist. No way did he intend to touch the grimy counter. He wondered why the filthy place was such an attraction for visitors. He stared down at the overweight man in his sixties with receding white hair and a full beard stained yellow around the mouth. “Mr. Ricker?”

  “Who’s askin’?” The man gave him a narrow stare. “Don’t recognize you.”

  “Sheriff’s Deputy Kane.” He indicated with his thumb toward Rowley. “I believe Deputy Rowley spoke to you about Miss Woodward earlier?”

  “Yeah, and I told him she don’t want to be disturbed.” Ricker took a long drag of his cigar and blew out a sequence of smoke rings. “We respect our visitors’ privacy here, especially if they stay long term.”

  “So it seems.” Kane straightened and rested one hand on the handle of the Glock holstered on his waist. “When did you last see her?”

  “Last night. She came by to pick up some coffee.” Mr. Ricker shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t think she has left the room and her breakfast tray was outside the door as usual. Like I said, she wants to be alone. That’s what the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign is for, don’t you know?”

  “I understand but we need to speak with her and she’s not answering her phone or returning messages. What number is her room?”

  “I don’t have to give you that information, officer.” Ricker flicked the ash from the glowing tip of his cigar into an overflowing ashtray and his dark eyes filled with menace.

  Kane moved closer to the man and towered over him. “We have probable cause to break down every door in the place. Your choice.”

  “Wait a minute.” Ricker let out a long impatient sigh then tapped on his computer. “Room twenty-five. It’s the one right at the end of the row.”

  “Grab the pass key and show me. If she isn’t answering the door, we’ll need to check inside.”

  “What’s going on out there?” The woman he had heard singing strolled into the reception area.

  “Nothing, Milly, the cops are checking up on the girl in room twenty-five.” Ricker smiled at her and picked up a jacket from the back of a chair. “Watch the desk. I’ll be back soon.” He shrugged into his coat then lifted up a partition in the desk, walked through, and opened the door.

  A blast of icy wind rushed inside and Kane held open the door, sucking in the fresh air. He turned to Milly. “Mrs. Ricker?”

  “Yeah. What’s all this nonsense about Sarah?”

  “Just routine enquiries.” Kane flicked a glance at Rowley, silencing any chance of explanation. “Have you seen her today?”

  “No.” Mrs. Ricker chewed on her bottom lip as if thinking. “Rosa delivered her breakfast and picked up her tray. I’m sure she’d have said something if anything was wrong.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine.” Kane waved Rowley out the door.

  They followed the wobbling figure of Ricker along the footpath in front of the motel rooms. Halfway down the row, two men strode from a room to a vehicle, keeping their heads down and eyes averted before making a dignified retreat. Kane made a mental note of the make and license plate of the car. Beside him, Rowley stared after the vehicle then jotted down details in his notebook. He caught his eye and nodded. Good man.

  “This is her room.” Ricker knocked his grubby knuckles on the door. “Sarah? It’s Bob Ricker. The cops are here to speak to you.”

  Nothing.

  Kane used his fist to bang on the door. “Miss Woodward, it’s Deputy Kane. Open the door please or we’re coming in.”

  Nothing.

  “Open the door, Mr. Ricker.” Kane stepped to one side, and when the door swung inward, he held up one arm to prevent Ricker entering the room.

  Light flowed through the door, illuminating the destruction inside. Someone had trashed the room and the smell of burned paper drifted in the musty air. He covered one hand with his sleeve and reached to flick on the light. There was no sign of Sarah in the main part of the room. He glanced at the other men and slid his Glock from the holster. “Stay here.”

  Moving around the piles of debris with care, he edged his way to the bathroom. Finding it empty, relief flooded over him. He scanned the tiny room. Fragments of burned paper with handwriting still visible on the fragments curled black in the sink. By the marks on the toilet bowl, someone had flushed the rest. Someone has burned the letters. He bent to examine the vanity, hopeful he might be able to pull fingerprints from the charred smudges. What was in the letters for someone to go to such lengths to destroy them? Retracing his steps, he found Rowley waiting outside, wide-eyed and rubbing the back of his neck. Not wanting to discuss the evidence in front of the motel owner, he waved the deputy away. “Get the cruiser and bring some latex gloves.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rowley took off at a run, his boots crunching on the gravel.

  Kane reached for his cellphone and punched in Sarah Woodward’s number. The call went straight to a cheery message from her saying she was busy and to leave a message. He left his name and a request to call him urgently. Unease clenched his gut. Hours had passed since anyone had heard from her. He examined the deadbolt on the door and grimaced. Whoever had searched her room had a key; there was no sign of forced entry. After pushing the cellphone back inside his pocket, he turned his back on the door to speak to the owner. “I gather Rosa delivered Miss Woodward’s breakfast this morning, so I assume this happened sometime in the last couple of hours. Did you see anyone hanging around earlier?”

  “Nope. I tend the counter and don’t bother to come out unless the bell rings.” Ricker stared at him anxiously and moved from one foot to the other. “Like I said before, I leave the customers alone. People don’t like being under surveillance.”

  “Sure, I understand.” Kane pulled out his notebook and jotted down a few details. “I’ll need to speak to Rosa and I wa
nt a list of everyone who stayed here last night, with all details.”

  “Sure.” Mr. Ricker peered around him in an obvious attempt to see in the room. “She’s not dead in there, is she?”

  “No. Someone trashed the room.” Kane folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll write a report for your insurance. Now if you could do as I asked. Oh, and could you bring me a roll of sticky tape?”

  “Right away.” Ricker waddled in the direction of the office and returned moments later with the required tape. “I’ll go find Rosa.”

  “Thanks.” Kane pulled out his cellphone and called Jenna to bring her up to speed. “No forced entry, and as Sarah didn’t know anyone in town, the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign could be an attempt to gain time. I’m worried for her safety.”

  “We need to locate her ASAP. I’ll see if I can discover the location of her cellphone.”

  “Okay. I’ll take some photographs and see if I can collect any prints. If I get any info from Rosa I’ll call you back.” He disconnected and slipped the cellphone into his pocket.

  Armed with tape and gloves, he walked Rowley through the crime scene, collecting evidence, but no prints showed in the ash smudges. Whoever had burned the papers had worn gloves. By the time they had completed their sweep of the room, he could hear Mr. Ricker speaking in rapid Spanish with a woman he assumed was Rosa. He ushered Rowley outside and pulled the door shut. “Seal the door.”

  Thirty-One

  Standing beside the motel owner was a young woman in her twenties, and from the hushed conversation, she was under the impression he wanted to check her work visa. He offered her a smile to calm her nerves and spoke to her in Spanish. “You must be Rosa? Can you tell me what time you served breakfast to Miss Woodward?”

  “Six thirty.” Rosa trembled like a rabbit in a spotlight.