by D. F. Hart
Sheepishly, Miller stood.
“He was about your height, maybe a couple inches taller than you,” she noted. “He was wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t tell you what color his eyes are, but he was a white man with brown hair and a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. Quite handsome. Didn’t look more than twenty-five.”
“How long was his hair?”
“Just to the top of the collar. Very neat and tidy.”
“And what was he wearing?”
“Khakis, and a blue windbreaker. Didn’t notice what kind of shirt.”
“What was his build?”
Rosie blinked rapidly.
“You know. Was he slender, muscular, chubby?”
She closed her eyes, picturing Stella’s visitor in her head.
“Slender. I mean, at least as far as I could tell. He had on that jacket, so I didn’t get a good look. But his face was thin. And he had good bones.”
“Good bones?”
“High cheekbones,” she explained. “Chiseled.”
“Chiseled,” Miller parroted, a strange look on his face as he made notes.
“Where’s your sketch artist? This would go much faster with a sketch artist, don’t you think?” Rosie reprimanded, eyeing the detective with exasperation. “You’re going to make me miss all my shows if we don’t move this along.”
Miller’s eyebrows raised as she rapped thin knuckles against the table.
“So, let’s get to it, young man.”
***
“I think it’s best for us to keep her overnight, just to be safe,” Dr. Baxter, the attending physician, told Grant as they stepped out of the triage room Bernice had been taken to. “She’s understandably in shock, and from what you’ve told me, under a lot of stress lately as well, worrying about your father.”
“I don’t think she’s been taking care of herself,” Grant confessed. “She always frets over everybody else and puts herself last.”
Grant remembered how frail his mother had felt in his arms and shuddered.
Baxter patted his shoulder. “We’ll take care of her, Grant. She needs an IV for slight dehydration, and some sleep. Everything else can wait until morning.”
“Not quite everything,” Grant said solemnly. “I’d like to see my father, please.”
“Of course,” came the gentle, sympathetic response. “Come with me. I’ll take you to him.”
They walked silently side-by-side to the far end of the hall, and the doctor gestured toward the last room on the left.
“I’ll give you some privacy, Grant. Take as long as you need,” Baxter told him, and stepped away.
Grant took a deep breath and stepped around the privacy curtain, closing his eyes as he went.
Don’t open them, his childhood voice echoed in his head. If you don’t open them, then this isn’t real.
He wished it were true, with all his heart. But he knew all too well how foolish that was.
He took another deep breath, then slowly opened his eyes and looked at his father.
Tears spilled unchecked down Grant’s cheeks as he stepped forward and lovingly caressed his father’s full head of striking silver hair.
“Daddy,” he managed, taking Bill’s limp hand in his as he broke apart with sorrow.
***
When Grant finally composed himself, he stepped back out into the hallway.
“Did... did he suffer?” he asked.
“I don’t believe so, Grant,” the doctor said. “He had a massive heart attack, and I believe he went suddenly and peacefully.”
Grant nodded at the miniscule comfort his words offered.
“What’s next?” he asked, wiping his eyes with the tissue handed to him. “I need to call the funeral home, don’t I?”
A silent nod. “Or we can make that call for you, if you prefer.”
“I’ll do it,” Grant answered, straightening his shoulders. “I need to do it myself, so Mom doesn’t have to.”
They walked back down the hallway in time to see Jeremiah Bortac, Bill’s boss, approaching the intake desk in the emergency room lobby.
“Grant! How’s your dad doing? I got a call there was an issue on his route this afternoon,” Jeremiah said.
In a split second, Grant’s right fist connected hard with Bortac’s nose and broke it. The older man gasped as he fell backward, blood already gushing through the hands he’d clasped to his face.
“You bastard,” Grant thundered at the top of his lungs as he towered over the frightened man. “He’s dead because of you! You ran my father’s health into the ground. I hope you’re happy. And I hope with all my heart that you rot in hell!”
And Grant Forrester turned on his heel and walked away to make three phone calls – the first to his aunt, the second to his editor to request a leave of absence, and the third to the funeral home to begin arrangements for his father’s service.
***
“Definitely an unnatural death,” the coroner told Detective Miller the following morning. “Strangulation. In addition to the very deep bruising almost all the way around Ms. Williams’ neck, there was petechial hemorrhaging in her eyes. We put a light source on the bruises, and I think we can lift a print or two. I’ll be back in touch about that.”
“Thanks, Doc. Keep me posted.”
The coroner was indeed able to lift a partial fingerprint as he suspected. He set the search in motion to try to find a match in several databases – to no avail. The killer’s identity remained elusive.
***
By the time the New Year arrived, the Edward Baker case and the hunt for Stella William’s murderer had each reached an impasse, headed for ‘cold case’ status.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Four months later, on a crisp spring morning, Grant and his mother sat at her kitchen table, locked in a battle of wills.
“I don’t want to leave you up here by yourself, Mom. I’ve got plenty of space at my house. Why can’t you just come live with me?” Grant said in exasperation.
“Because I’m a grown woman, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” came the sharp retort. “I’m fifty-nine, not ninety-nine, and I’m healthy as a horse.”
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I know you can take care of yourself, Mom. I just... I don’t like being two hours away from you. What if you need me?”
“Honey, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Bernice chided, her voice softening a bit. “Whatever happens is going to happen, whether we’re two minutes or two hours apart. I’ve built a life here. Let me stay in my home and around my friends and enjoy what I’ve built. Please?”
“I don’t like it, not one bit,” he shot back, arms folded stubbornly. “I don’t like the thought of you being alone.”
“You’re not required to like it. But I do expect you to respect it,” she rejoined, gazing at him in defiance. “End of discussion.”
“But Mom...”
Bernice slapped her hand on the table.
“No, Grant. That’s it. I’m staying right here in this house, and that’s final. Now,” she transitioned without missing a beat, “you need to go back to work, young man. Your articles aren’t going to write themselves. I love you, and I appreciate your concern. But it’s time to stop hovering over me and go and continue your work. It’s what your dad would want.”
***
Up in Virginia, Lizzie pounded down the long open stretch, her long brown ponytail swinging side-to-side as she sprinted toward the instructor with the stopwatch.
She hadn’t been a bit surprised to find that she was the second oldest trainee in her class. What did surprise her was that thanks to her time with Seattle PD, she was in better physical shape than over half of the people ten years her junior.
Even so, the punishing regimen had helped tone and condition her physique for maximum effectiveness – to the point she was just about to beat her personal best time in the one and a half mile.
She pushed through the imaginary f
inish line before slowing her speed, and the man clicked the timer to a stop and grinned.
“Nice, Zimmerman! Real nice! Great job,” he called out.
She waved her acknowledgement as she slowed to a walk in the frigid March air, leg muscles burning with effort.
Four more weeks and done, she realized as she headed for the bottle of water the instructor was offering. Not much longer now.
“What’s next today?” she asked before taking a sip.
“Well, you’ve already maxed out on the firing range,” he confided with a big smile, referring to her deadly accuracy with every single weapon they’d handed her.
“Yeah, but you know why? Because I practice all the time,” she confided in return. “Dad drilled that into me at an early age – if you’re gonna carry a firearm, better make sure you’re consistently accurate, and that means practice.”
“Well, you’re definitely consistently accurate. I’d go through the door with you anytime,” her instructor said. “See you tomorrow, Zim.”
She headed back toward the dorms and was surprised to see Nathan Thomas strolling toward her.
“Hey there,” he called out. “They told me you were down here doing PT.”
“Hi! You’ve got great timing. I just finished. What’s up?”
“I had to come up for a meeting, but I wanted to stop in and check on you. How’s it going?”
“Pretty well, actually,” Lizzie told him as they walked side-by-side. “I mean, a lot of the subject matter I already knew, from being a detective. But I never really had the chance to get into the forensics side as much as I wanted to, and I didn’t know much at all about cyber and counterintelligence, so, it’s been good to get up to speed on that.”
“I hear you’re pretty much acing everything, not that I expected any differently,” Nathan said, and chuckled when she blushed a bit.
Lizzie shrugged. “I just... I don’t go halfway with anything, Nathan. Especially in our line of work. For us, the only thing going halfway does is get people hurt.”
Nathan solemnly nodded in agreement.
“How are things down there? Any new cases?”
“It’s been fairly quiet so far,” he answered. “Which is a good thing. Nice to have a bit of down time once in a while, especially after we work some really intense ones.”
“I bet. I’m ready to get started down there. I don’t suppose I could skip ahead, huh?”
“Nope,” Nathan’s eyes sparkled with humor. “More’s the pity. But trust me, the next month will fly by. I know it did for me when I went through the program.”
“Will you guys be coming up for the ceremony?”
“I know Rick and Faith are already planning on it. And I will try my best to,” he said honestly. “As long as no major cases pop up that I have to deal with, Bella and I should be able to make it.”
“Fair enough. Hey, I’m gonna grab a bite in the commissary. Wanna come? My treat.”
“I’d like to, but I really need to head out. I meet with Steve at eleven-thirty and traffic can be gnarly.”
“Okay,” Lizzie smiled. “Tell everyone I said ‘hi’ and let them know I’m doing well, and I will see them all soon.”
“Sure thing,” Nathan said. “Holler if you need me for anything.”
“Will do.”
***
“How ya been?” Benji Patterson asked in his typically brusque fashion when he answered Grant’s call.
“Doing well, all things considered,” Grant replied. “Thanks for asking. I was calling to reschedule our time together at Fort Griffin and Phantom Hill.”
“Figured that,” the old man snapped. “It’s not like we’re pen pals, sonny. So, when do you want to come back down?”
“Well, you’d know better than I would when any special events are going on,” the writer rejoined.
Benji chuckled. “That I would. How about the end of the month? That’s when they have a ‘living history’ type thing. Period costumes, the works.”
“Sounds interesting,” Grant agreed.
The two men finalized their plans, and by the end of the call had scheduled to meet up again at Fort Phantom Hill on the thirtieth at noon.
***
The thirtieth, huh? Gives me some time to plan, then, he realized as he played back the recorded conversation between Grant and the curmudgeonly old man.
And if I do it right, I’ll be able to use Grant’s rifle again...
He was about to drill down into Benji Patterson’s background to glean information on his schedule and habits when his cell phone rang.
“Yes?” he snarled, then listened, and sighed.
“Fine, tell them I’ll be there in half an hour,” he answered, and abruptly hung up on his dispatcher.
I hate my job. It keeps the bills paid but man is it boring, he grumbled to himself as he reluctantly gathered up his toolkit and went out to his company van to go troubleshoot yet another whiny homeowner’s security system.
***
Donny Atherton’s plane landed at DFW Airport a little after noon. He found the rental car desk with no issues, and by one-forty-five he’d pulled into the designated parking lot in downtown Fort Worth and checked in at the testing center’s front desk. Once the receptionist verified his name on the day’s list of registered exam applicants, she handed him a packet and pointed him toward the small set of lockers just outside the exam room.
He placed his briefcase inside an empty locker and took the key from the lock, tucking it into his front pocket. Then he made his way to a vacant cubicle that was surrounded on three sides by white plastic half-walls.
He opened the packet he’d been given and read the pre-exam instructions before logging into the desktop unit.
Donny closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Why are you nervous? he asked himself. It’s not like you’ve never seen a test like this before...
But he already knew the answer.
Because this directly impacts my future plans with Lizzie, that’s why.
And a calmer voice chimed in from the depths of his mind. You can do this, man. Piece of cake. Just take your time.
He opened his eyes and clicked the large red “Begin Exam” button in the bottom right corner of the screen.
***
Nathan arrived home in Pantego around seven p.m. and kissed a surprised Bella softly on the lips.
“I thought you were going to be up there two days,” she said, confused.
“Was supposed to be. Then things got shifted and I was able to come back early,” he told her. “But if you want, I can make myself scarce, and go wander around somewhere and not come back until tomorrow.”
She punched him in the shoulder. “Smartass.”
He grinned.
“Quit giving her fits and help me and Tony set the table,” Jandy mock-scolded, handing her brother a stack of five plates.
Once they were seated, Nathan asked, “You went and met with Jacob again, right? How’s the build coming?”
“Jacob says we’re ahead of schedule,” Jandy told them all. “Isn’t that great?”
The winter had been a mild one, and Jandy and Tony’s homebuilder had made the most of it, working his crews as expediently as possible. Once the new foundation had set properly, the structure had been ‘dried-in’ – exterior framework done, roof on, exterior doors and windows installed, and Tyvek wrap fastened in place around the perimeter – by New Year’s Eve.
After that had come the detail-heavy tasks of framing in the interior walls, then running wiring from the panel box to each individual outlet throughout the home. Once the electrical items were complete, the crews moved on to insulating the outer walls, putting up the brick exterior, and hanging sheetrock in each room.
Now they were at the next stage – a myriad of choices to wade through concerning color schemes for paint, type and style of floor coverings and window treatments, lighting and bathroom fixtures, the lot. Jacob had loaned Jandy and Tony a ton of ref
erence sources to help them decide.
“Wow,” Tony muttered when he saw all the books and samples Jandy was rummaging through after the meal. “This is where I bow out, honey. I trust your judgement.”
“Really? You seriously don’t want to help with this part?”
“Nope,” he shook his head. “You’ve always had an impeccable sense of style, Jandy. Like I said, I trust your judgement.”
“Fuchsia walls it is!” she exclaimed, just to mess with her husband, and laughed when his eyes went wide.
“That was mean,” Nathan interjected with a snort, “but funny.”
He turned to Bella.
“How about I put Charlie to bed tonight so you can keep going on that paper of yours?”
“Much appreciated,” Bella answered, kissing her son goodnight before she handed him to his father. “I’ll be at the computer.”
***
“How did the exam go?” Faith asked Donny as they walked with Rick down to Mama J’s for a meal.
“I scored an eighty-nine,” Donny answered with a grin.
“You already have your results?” Rick was incredulous.
“Yep, and it shocked me too,” Donny confessed. “I was expecting to have to wait two weeks, at least, before I got any feedback. But as soon as I hit ‘complete’, it showed me my raw scores.”
“What’s the next step?” Faith asked, once they’d been seated in a booth and given Mama their drink orders.
“Well, I have to apply with the State of Texas. That can take up to two months to be finalized.”
“So,” Rick said thoughtfully, “that sounds about right from a timing standpoint.”
“Yeah,” Donny’s eyes twinkled as his smile widened. “It all lines out pretty well, doesn’t it?”
“She’s gonna be so surprised,” Faith beamed. “I cannot wait to see her face.”
“Me either,” Donny answered, and his eyebrows raised with panic as his phone rang. “Speaking of which, Lizzie’s calling me now. What do I do? She can’t know I’m down here...”
“We’ll be quiet,” Faith assured him, and Rick nodded.
“Hey, you,” Donny began as nonchalantly as he could when he answered the phone. “I was just thinking about you.”