“C’mon,” said Denise, smiling.
Katie followed her down a long, dimly lit hallway. They passed two uniformed officers, who nodded to them. When they reached an unmarked door, Denise inserted a key into the lock. “This is the office supply room. It’s supposed to be locked and is only for administrative personnel—if any of the officers need anything, we have to get it for them. I guess it’s for budget purposes and a tight inventory. Anything you might need is here.”
Katie peered inside and saw metal shelves stacked with paper, pens, notebooks, and other items.
Denise locked the door and they continued to the next one, which she opened without a key. Stepping inside, she said, “This door remains unlocked during the day, but you’ll need the key in the evening if you happen to be working late. This is where all the cases ultimately end up.”
The room was the size of a small warehouse, with high shelves reminding Katie of a superstore. Boxes and sealed plastic containers lined the shelves, with identifying case numbers, year, and name. “Wow, you could get lost in here,” she said.
“On the far wall are the filing cabinets, along with the cold cases,” Denise explained. “Of course, all the actual evidence is stored in the forensic division.” She studied Katie for a moment. “I’m really glad you’re here. We need the help, but I’m afraid you’ll probably get bored before the day is over.”
“I doubt that. It’s what I need right now. Work to keep me busy.”
Denise smiled. “Great. I’ll show you to your workstation.”
* * *
Katie spent most of the morning entering data and issuing details for warrants. It was tedious but made her feel needed without worrying about bombs and gunfire. A few curious people approached her and asked what it had been like in Afghanistan. A few others, mostly women, just completely ignored her existence. Most people were polite, but it was obvious who felt that Katie was being treated special because she had spent two years in the armed forces and her uncle was the sheriff.
She sat at a corner workstation with a department-networked computer and a fairly comfortable chair. The desk was next to Denise’s area, and Katie couldn’t help but notice several framed photographs of a smiling boy about four years old, along with other knickknacks that helped her desk to appear personalized. Her screen saver was a big shaggy dog, and two small crystal vases with wildflowers sat along the edge of the desk.
Katie worked her way through two large stacks of files, making sure everything was entered into the mainframe, then collated, and returned to the folders ready for the final filing. When she’d finished, she went to her uncle’s office to see if he was free for lunch. He wasn’t there, and his assistant was also gone. She was just about to leave when she saw a pile of files lying on a side table where they needed to be returned to the proper filing cabinets—some open cases, others cold.
As she grabbed them up, one of the files slipped from her grasp and a few papers scattered onto the floor. She bent down to pick them up and saw that it was a missing-persons case from four years ago that had gone cold.
Katie remembered the incident and the mass searches that had followed. Eight-year-old Chelsea Compton had been walking back from a friend’s house in the middle of a summer afternoon. She had never made it home. It was a heartbreaking case. Many Pine Valley residents had their own ideas about what had happened, but it was nothing more than idle gossip, and no new physical evidence had been found since.
She opened the file and skimmed the notes from the lead investigator, Detective Rory Templeton. As she turned the pages, she stopped on a large eight-by-ten color photograph of Chelsea. It was the smiling, eager face of a little girl with dark hair, bright-green eyes, a missing front tooth, and her entire life ahead of her.
Like a gavel hitting a judge’s desk, a memory fell sharply to the front of Katie’s mind, of when she was at camp around the same age as the missing girl. It was one of the most memorable times in her childhood and she could still remember all the friends she had made, as well as the fun activities. She had learned archery that year, which later helped with her skill as a sharpshooter. There was swimming, hiking, canoeing, and various crafts. It was a wonderful lifelong memory of fun, friends, and surviving through the growing pains of being an adolescent.
But…
She also had a much darker recollection of that time. It was something that had always haunted her, one of the defining moments of her life: the last conversation she had with her friend Jenny.
“Hi, Katie,” said Jenny eagerly, revealing a mouthful of braces. Her enthusiasm sometimes overrode her shyness. She was one of the nicest girls Katie had met at camp and the two of them had immediately struck up a friendship.
“Hi,” replied Katie, beaming with joy. “Where were you? I looked for you before we went canoeing. It was so much fun. You would have loved it.”
“Oh.” Jenny looked down. “I was… well, I was running late and didn’t really feel like it.”
Katie had noticed that Jenny would disappear at times and not participate in group activities.
“Well, we’re going again at three. You want to come?” she asked. “Please come,” she insisted.
Jenny’s eyes lit up and she replied, “That sounds like fun.”
“Good. I’ll meet you right here a little bit earlier. Okay?”
“Okay, I’ll be there,” Jenny answered as she smiled, clearly excited.
But Katie never saw or talked to Jenny again. She waited for her as arranged, but Jenny never showed up. She didn’t want to be late for the canoe class, so she left without her friend. When Jenny didn’t appear at the canoe dock or later at dinner, counselors realized that she was missing from the campgrounds.
A casual search began, but soon it was established that law enforcement was needed to continue looking for the girl. There was no sign of her.
Two weeks after Katie returned home that summer, she overheard that a body had been found two counties away. It was identified as that of Jenny Daniels. According to the news, her parents had been involved in a nasty custody battle. When they couldn’t come to an amicable agreement, things turned deadly, and her dad killed both Jenny and her mom.
Memories of that incident haunted Katie for a long time, and still continued today.
She had known something hadn’t seemed right about Jenny’s behavior. If only she had pressed her to find out what was wrong at the time.
If only she had stayed with her and not made a plan to meet her later.
If only…
An immense sadness filled her. The only solace was that there was closure in Jenny’s case, but there was no comfort in someone’s life ending before it ever really began. She remembered that Jenny had told her that she wanted to be a nurse, so that she could help people. She wondered what Chelsea had wanted to be when she grew up. Losing a child and not knowing what had happened to her must be a lifetime of heartbreak for any parent.
She focused her attention on the cold case. The notes and interviews seemed inconclusive. Katie wasn’t an investigator—she had only worked minimal investigative cases on patrol—and yet there were things that stood out to her. The witness interviews appeared rushed and incomplete. There were a couple of people the detective hadn’t followed up on, though it was possible the notes were filed somewhere else.
When Katie’s parents had told her that Jenny had died, she had immediately demanded how and why. At first, she didn’t believe it. It was too horrible. Her parents tried to be gentle, not wanting to upset her more than necessary, but Katie knew there was more to the story. She didn’t rest until she found a newspaper, searching without her parents’ consent, and finally finding a copy in the neighbor’s recycling pile. And there it was, the grisly and shocking truth of what had happened. She remembered every word after the startling headline as her hands trembled and she cried for her friend.
Local Pine Valley Girl Caught in Middle of Custody Battle Turned Deadly.
The article w
ent on to describe how Mr. Daniels had shot and killed his ex-wife in their home and then gone to find Jenny at the camp, making up an emergency to lure her to her death just under a mile away.
Jenny’s smiling face came to Katie’s mind again as she thought about how senseless her murder was. She felt that they would still have been friends today and would have had so much in common. Instead, a wonderful person had been taken from the world. That fact chilled her deeply, and had been one of the reasons she became a police officer.
She made a swift decision. There was a small copy machine in her uncle’s office, so she photocopied the entire file, slid the copies into a plain unmarked folder, then returned the official documents to the original file.
“How are you doing?” asked Denise as she poked her head into the sheriff’s office.
“Great. I found more files to return.” Katie straightened the pile of folders in her hands.
“There’re always files to return. I have dreams about files coming at me in endless waves,” Denise laughed. “I managed to find more data entry for you. I left it at your workstation.”
“Thanks, Denise.”
As the other woman turned to leave, Katie called after her, trying to sound casual.
“Does Detective Rory Templeton still work here?”
“Yes. He’s over in the detective division. Why?”
“Just curious. I’ve heard from my uncle about some of the interesting cases he’s worked.”
“If you want to go over there, there’s an assistant, Kelli, who buzzes everyone in. Tell her I said it was okay.”
“Thanks.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” Denise said, and was gone.
It was against protocol to remove any information from an investigation, open or closed, but Katie would come clean to her uncle if she found anything useful—if not, she would destroy her copies. She had to make sure there was nothing more that could be done on the case. She hadn’t been able to save Jenny, but she might be able to help Chelsea.
Four
The painting hung in the corner, overpowering the entire exhibition with its dark contrast and dramatic hues. The abstract scene wasn’t anything in particular at first glance, but it made a lasting impression due to its use of color and shape. The heavy brushstrokes in crimson and deep arctic blue washed across the canvas with great flair, with black lines accentuating the picture both horizontally and vertically.
Katie stood studying the work, searching for the artist’s motivation or some kind of story. She wondered what it was they were trying to capture. The simplest answer would be darkness, misunderstanding, or loneliness. The painting was mesmerizing and appeared to change subtly every time she looked at it.
She glanced at her watch. Her uncle was already fifteen minutes late. She decided to slowly peruse the gallery rather than wait any longer, and took several moments at each exhibit before moving on. There were oil paintings, watercolors, bronzes, a sculpture made of recycled items, and photography. Every piece made her relax and enjoy the moment. Ever since she was a little girl, she had loved looking at paintings, photographs, and any type of artistic exhibits. She shared this interest with her uncle, and that was one of their strongest bonds—before the law-enforcement bug hit her too.
She found herself drawn back to a series of black-and-white photographs from 1950 depicting everyday scenes of people interacting with one another in the streets and at home. It gave her pause. It was well before her time, and so many things had changed. She wondered what people from that era thought about the changes in technology, crime, and social identity. Life then had been so simple.
“Makes you think,” said a voice behind her.
Katie turned and smiled at her uncle. “Yes, it really does.”
The sheriff was dressed casually in jeans and a dark long-sleeved shirt. His eyes had a cool blue stare that could waver between calm and loving and an intensity that made many criminals confess.
“You know, I remember when your favorite types of paintings had ponies, rabbits, and raccoons in them,” he laughed.
“I don’t know how much I’ve changed. I still love ponies, rabbits, and raccoons.”
A memory caught at her, of her mom when she was teaching Katie how to draw. Memories could be cruel, like a gust of cold wind, but wonderful for the very fact that she had been lucky enough to experience them.
Katie and her uncle wandered around the gallery discussing technique and mood, sharing laughs and friendly debates. It was another forty minutes before they decided to go to one of their favorite diner restaurants, Burger Mania, reputed to serve the best hamburgers west of the Mississippi.
After they’d placed their orders, they settled in at their compact booth, sipping colas. The place was crowded, and the conversations around them rose in volume, but it couldn’t spoil Katie’s enjoyment of this time spent with her uncle. She realized that since she had been back, she had been struggling with her emotions and feelings of anxiety. Keeping certain feelings in check still caused her some grief. She looked down at the table.
“What’s on your mind?” asked Wayne.
She took a breath and answered honestly. “What’s not? I don’t know. Everything’s on my mind. Does that make any sense?”
“Ever since you were a little girl, you were so serious about everything. So yes, I believe that you hold a lot in that brain of yours.”
“There’s no lying to you.” She watched the ice cubes in her soda slowly melt.
“Not likely.”
“I thought things here would be like they’ve always been. Slow, laid-back, and keeping that same small-town charm.”
“Like before you left?”
“Well, yeah, why not? It hasn’t been that long.”
“Places change all the time. People change. A way of life changes. You can’t freeze time or expect things to stay the same. They never will, no matter how hard you try to hold onto them.”
“I’m looking for an easy answer, but there isn’t one.” Katie ran her fingertips across her paper napkin. “I guess I’m having difficulty making decisions right now.”
“Then don’t.”
“It’s just—”
“Katie, you’re young. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I assume you’re talking about going back to Sacramento PD?” He watched her carefully.
“Yes.”
“And perhaps some feelings for an old friend?” He smiled.
“No… Well, maybe.”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Don’t push yourself. Let things move the way they should—naturally. You’ll know what to do when it’s time.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t want to make any rash decisions yet about getting back on patrol. Don’t tell anyone, but I kind of like working in records. It’s quiet, soothing, and keeps my mind busy. No gunfire, no explosives…”
A tall, thin waitress with an extremely long braided ponytail brought their plates, with towering burgers and heaping piles of fries. “You need anything else?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips.
“No, we’re fine right now,” the sheriff replied.
“I’ll freshen up those sodas in a bit,” the waitress said, and was gone.
“I think there’s more you’re not telling me, that you’re not wanting to process right now,” Wayne said.
Katie nodded and couldn’t quite meet her uncle’s gaze.
“I’ve always been one of your biggest supporters in whatever you’ve decided to do. And you still haven’t reached your potential—not even close.” He poured catsup onto his plate and immediately dunked several fries into the red sauce.
Katie took a bite of her hamburger, and swallowed before she continued. “I know you want to ask me why I joined the army.”
“You wanted to do something bigger than yourself. At least that’s what you said at the time.”
“True. That’s part of it, but…” It was difficult for her to articulate. She took a few moments
before continuing. “I wanted to leave here, leave Sacramento; I wanted to get away from my life. Be somewhere else.” It seemed strange for her say it aloud after it had been kept compartmentalized in her mind.
Her uncle listened and waited patiently for her to continue.
“I know it sounds crazy.”
“No, it doesn’t sound crazy. I didn’t know how you felt before you left because it was so abrupt. And you stayed an extra tour before coming back home. It was worrisome.”
“I’m sorry.” She picked at her hamburger bun.
“Don’t be. You did what you thought you needed to do at the time.”
“Uncle Wayne, are you psychoanalyzing me?” She smiled.
“I never divulge my secrets,” he joked.
“I wanted to escape. After Mom and Dad died… that day… how it…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. “It was too much for me, but I managed to finish school and the academy, and begin patrol at Sacramento PD with the help of you and Aunt Claire. Nothing felt quite right. I felt like I was supposed to be a certain person and act a certain way.” Taking a sip of her soda, she said, “I know no one made me do anything I didn’t want to do. I had to find my own peace, I guess.”
“We all do at some point in our lives, some sooner than others,” he reassured her. “You’re doing everything you need to right now. Just recognize it. The more small stuff you accept, the easier it will be with more weighty things.”
“I’m working on that,” she said. “I just wasn’t prepared to lose friends so soon on the battlefield, and it’s difficult to get that straight in my mind.”
“If you need anything, absolutely anything at any time, just ask.”
Katie knew that her uncle was being careful not to push her about her experiences in the army and what she had witnessed. It was the same thing with cops. Many held their feelings close and didn’t want anyone to have a sense of their weakness—which in reality was their strength.
Little Girls Sleeping: An absolutely gripping crime thriller Page 3