Shattered (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 3)

by Becky Durfee

  “It was pretty sad for you, huh?”

  “You know, sad wasn’t even the problem. It was just a crazy day.”

  “Care to talk about it?”

  “You know what? I do,” Jenny said. “If you have a minute.”

  “I’ve got nowhere to go,” Zack replied while chewing. “Shoot.”

  “I had a contact today. A voice. It turns out one of my brother’s college friends knew a girl who was murdered in high school, and it seems she’s trying to communicate with me. But she doesn’t speak in English, so I can’t understand what she’s saying. I could only make out that her name was Lena.”

  “What language is she speaking in?”

  “Russian, I assume. That’s where she was from. She only lived here a couple of years before she got killed.”

  “That’s sad. You’d think you’d be safer moving from Russia to America.”

  “You’d think,” Jenny replied. “Anyway, I have plans to meet Elijah—that’s my brother’s friend—for breakfast tomorrow so we can discuss the details some more. He’s actually a cop, and her case is in his file. He already has some details on the case, and I’m hoping I can connect some dots.”

  “Wow. I wish I could be up there to help you with that.”

  “Well, I have Elijah to help me. Hopefully that’s enough.” Jenny cringed at the insensitivity of her own statement. “But I also have another little tidbit that you might find interesting.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “My father’s spirit paid me a visit last night…and he disclosed to me that I was actually the product of an affair my mother had had while she and my father were having problems.”

  “What?” Zack said with dismay. “Are you sure that’s true?”

  “I confronted my mother about it, and she confessed. My real father was an artist. A starving artist, apparently, who lived in a tent and grew his own food.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “I know. I am actually pretty curious to find him. He seems like quite an interesting character. I was hoping you could do me a favor and contact the private investigator I used to find Elanor. His name is Kyle Buchanan.”

  “Who…the investigator or your father?”

  “The investigator. My father’s name is Roddan Epperly.”

  “How do you spell that?”

  “I’ll text you the spelling, along with some information about him. My mother gave me some details about him that might make him easier to find.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that? Find him, I mean. What if he’s an asshole?”

  Jenny shrugged. “Then I’ll meet him once and won’t deal with him after that. I’m only meeting him out of curiosity…it’s not like I have a huge void I’m hoping he’ll fill. I had a dad. I just want to see this guy’s face and have a conversation with him.”

  “Okay, as long as you’re sure.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. And thanks for doing this, by the way.”

  “No problem.”

  “Oh, and not like this would even be an issue, but please don’t tell anyone in my family about this. I promised my mother I’d keep her secret.”

  “But you just told me. You already haven’t kept the secret.”

  “You don’t count,” Jenny said jokingly.

  “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Any time,” Jenny replied with a giant yawn. “I think I’m becoming delirious. I should probably go and send you that text so I can get some sleep.”

  “Okay, I’ll contact Kyle Buchanan in the morning.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Jenny let out another yawn. “Your business partner is better.”

  Poking at her pancake, Jenny asked, “So you don’t have any suspects?”

  “No one that stands out,” Elijah confessed. “To this day it’s one of the most frustrating cases I’ve ever worked on. She had no real enemies, no real friends, a mysterious background, a language barrier and nothing but drunken witnesses.” He took a bite of bacon. “It’s like the worst of every possible world.”

  “Can you tell me a little more about her? Not how she died, but what she was like when she was alive?” Jenny always wanted to know about her victims so they were more than just names and statistics.

  Elijah released a long breath. “Well, I have two different perspectives of her…the one when I was eighteen and now. Back in high school we all thought she was arrogant. There she was, this incredibly beautiful, foreign girl who didn’t give anyone the time of day. Every guy in the school took it as a challenge; we all wanted to be the one to crack the ice queen. But we were all just stupid, immature boys back then, and as much as we all talked a tough game, none of us really tried to actually talk to her. We just gawked and made juvenile comments as she walked by.” He shook his head. Jenny could feel his regret.

  “Looking back on it, though, I see a scared young girl who just happened to have a beautiful face. I mean, could you imagine being moved to a different continent where you didn’t know anyone and didn’t speak the language...at age sixteen? She was put into the ESL classes—that’s English as a Second Language—with only a handful of other kids, but they all spoke Spanish, so they were at least able to communicate with each other. She had no one. I can’t imagine how difficult that was for her.”

  “Do you know what life was like for her back in Russia?”

  “Depends who you ask,” he said. “There were all kinds of rumors…she was being forced into the sex slave trade so her parents smuggled her into America. She had to work sixteen hours a day to support her family.” He grunted. “It seems everybody knew facts about her life without ever having talked to her.

  “I’d interviewed her parents a few times, but they were awfully tight lipped about life back in Russia. They only told me that the move to America was best for the family, and they left it at that. It does make me wonder if they were running from something. I’ve considered the notion that perhaps her execution-style murder had nothing at all to do with Evergreen High School but had everything to do with her past in Russia. Maybe the person they’d been running from had found them. Maybe her parents were being punished for something they’d done.” Elijah shrugged helplessly. “I honestly have no idea.”

  “Well,” Jenny said, trying to make him feel better, “I’m not getting anything here, but maybe if you and I go to some of the places she’s been I’ll be able to receive a contact. I know from my past experiences that sometimes it helps for me to retrace their steps.”

  “That’d be great if you’re willing to do that,” Elijah replied. “But I know you probably want to be with your family.”

  “Well, we had made arrangements to all meet at my Grandmother’s around ten, so I do have a little bit of time. Do you think we could sneak in a visit somewhere?”

  Elijah checked the time. “We could probably get away with a quick one. Where would you like to go?”

  Jenny looked across the table. “The place where she was killed…if you know where that is.”

  “She was killed where she was found,” he explained. “There was blood everywhere. There’s no way it was a dump.”

  “Can we go there?”

  Elijah gestured for the waitress to bring the check.

  “I have one condition,” Jenny commented as they walked across the parking lot.

  “And what is that?”

  “I need to drive.”

  Elijah shot her a playful look. “Are you a control freak?”

  With a laugh, Jenny replied, “No, I am not a control freak. It’s just that sometimes I feel a tug when I am behind the wheel. The spirits lead me places—places of importance. I don’t know where I’m going, necessarily; somehow I can just drive there automatically. It’s like someone else takes over for a little while.”

  “I don’t know whether to be fascinated or freaked out.”

  “Truthfully, I don’t either,” Jenny noted. “I just k
now I need to drive.”

  Elijah looked up at the sky. “Hang on,” he said. “I’ll be right back. I need to run to my car for a second.” He jogged to the other side of the parking lot, returning with two umbrellas, one of which had rubber duckies on it.

  Jenny looked quizzically at the umbrellas, inspiring Elijah to say, “It looks like rain. I figured we’d better be prepared.”

  “You brought me a duckie umbrella,” she remarked with sarcastic happiness. “How sweet!”

  With a grin he replied, “Well, I was actually going to use the duckie one and let you have the grown up one.”

  Jenny laughed as they climbed into her car. “You’d be willing to use a duckie umbrella for me?”

  “I’m six foot three, two-hundred seventy-five pounds, with a shaved head and a goatee…who’s going to make fun of my umbrella? The truth of the matter is that I need to keep my notes dry. Besides, if you’re able to help solve this case, I’d be willing to walk through the center of town with this umbrella. In a tutu. With fishnet stockings. And heels.”

  Jenny winced. “There’s no need for that. So, which way am I going?”

  “Take a right out of the parking lot.”

  As Jenny followed his directions, she noted, “I assume that umbrella belongs to your daughter?”

  “Yeah, she loves this thing. She uses it even when it’s sunny. She claims she can feel rain drops that aren’t there.”

  “That’s cute,” Jenny remarked. “How old is she again?”

  “Five,” Elijah said with that hint of pride only a parent can have. “Samantha. Yeah, she’s my little peanut.”

  Jenny glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, flashing him a smile. There was always something attractive about a man with a little girl.

  “So do you want to hear some shit about Brad?” Elijah posed.

  “That would be fabulous,” Jenny remarked. “I could always use some dirt on my brothers. You never know when it will come in handy.”

  “Well, this is a good one. Honestly, I still tell this story, even to people who don’t know Brad. It’s just that funny.”

  Jenny smiled widely.

  “One night there was a bunch of us hanging out in our apartment, having a few beers. For some reason we decided that we were going to punish the first person to fall asleep.”

  Jenny shot him a strange look out of the corner of her eye.

  “I know,” Elijah quickly stated. “It seems dumb now, but we were in college, so it made perfect sense at the time. Anyway, your brother was an athlete, so he never really drank that much, and the alcohol hit him really hard that night. He hung in there as long as he could, but he couldn’t handle it like the rest of us more experienced drinkers, so he was the first one to be out.”

  “Oh, God. What was his punishment?”

  “It wasn’t bad, really. We just wrote I am weak across his forehead. It was pen, too, not permanent marker or anything. We figured he’d wake up in the morning, go to the bathroom and see it. He’d wash it off and the joke would be over.” Elijah started to laugh as he spoke. “The problem was he woke up late for class, so he didn’t go to the bathroom before he left. He just grabbed his books and ran out the door.”

  “So he walked across campus with I am weak written on his forehead?”

  “That’s not even the worst of it. The reason he was in such a hurry to get to class was because he had to give a speech that day.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes. There he stood, in front of the professor and everybody, giving a speech about the government with I am weak on his forehead. It wasn’t until he got back from class and looked in the mirror that he realized what had happened.”

  “Was he mad?”

  “A little bit, but it was his own fault, really. He was the first one to fall asleep.”

  Jenny shook her head. “I would think somebody would have told him.”

  “Well, he said that people kept looking above his eyes and giggling. He thought he had a serious case of bed head, so he kept smoothing out his hair during his speech.” Elijah began to laugh harder. “I can totally picture him up there doing it, too.”

  “You’re a good friend, Elijah.”

  “I know.” He pointed toward the windshield. “You’ll need to take a left at this light. Do you want to hear another one?”

  “Absolutely,” Jenny said emphatically.

  “This one had to do with his job. He used to have a part-time job with a car dealership, and he always had to write up these reports. I’m not even sure what they were for, but he used to complain they were useless. He was positive his boss didn’t actually read them; he said his boss was just a micromanager and made him write those reports simply because he felt the need to tell everyone what to do. Well, in order to prove that his boss didn’t read them, Brad started signing fake names at the bottom. For a few weeks it went unnoticed, but then his boss did actually read one…and Brad had signed it Beatrice Snapperhead.”

  “Beatrice Snapperhead?”

  “Uh-huh. So Brad got called into the boss’s office and had to explain himself. I so wish I could have been there and heard what possible explanation he could have come up with for Beatrice Snapperhead.” After Elijah and Jenny finally stopped laughing, he remarked, “Brad sure was a piece of work.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Jenny said sarcastically. “Remember, I was his kid sister. I bore the brunt of some of his antics.”

  “Did he abuse you?”

  “A little bit, yeah,” Jenny said lightly. “I remember a game called sarcophagus. I was so young I didn’t even know what the word meant, but my brothers would hunt me down and wrap me tightly in a blanket like a mummy. Then they’d fasten it with bungee cords so I couldn’t break free. I’d have to yell for my mom to come let me out.”

  “That sounds like the kind of stuff I used to do to my little sister.”

  “It’s a rite of passage, I think,” Jenny said.

  “It helps build character,” Elijah concluded. “You’re a very down-to-earth person, and in my personal opinion that stems from spending time trapped inside blankets.”

  “I couldn’t afford to be prissy, that’s for sure,” Jenny said. “I haven’t even told you about the fart game.”

  “You don’t need to tell me about it—I played it.”

  Jenny couldn’t help but giggle. “You know, I have to thank you. I didn’t think I’d be doing a whole lot of laughing during this trip, but you’ve given me a moment of levity. I need it this morning. The wake is tonight, and it’s going to be a rough one.”

  “Well, I’m glad I could do that for you,” Elijah replied.

  An awkward silence followed, which Elijah broke by giving Jenny directions to the murder site. When they finally arrived, Jenny requested that he not give her any details about the scene. She wanted her visions to be genuine and not at all influenced by his descriptions.

  They got out of the car, and Jenny noted the remoteness of the road they were on; a streetlight and some telephone poles were the only signs of civilization. She walked toward the light, feeling a slight wave coming over her. Jenny pointed in front of her. “She was walking this direction.”

  Elijah and his notepad were close behind. He jotted down what she’d just said, listening intently for her next revelation.

  She took a few more steps, pausing near the lamp, closing her eyes to facilitate a reading. “There was a car,” she muttered. “Coming from this direction.” She pointed behind her. “It was a going slowly. It got Lena’s attention.” Jenny paused as she observed more details inside her head. “Lena looked over her shoulder. The car was lit up by the light. It was a little gray car, or silver maybe. A hatch back. And then there was a bang. Whoever was in that car shot her.”

  Jenny opened her eyes, relieved to know that she only observed the gunshot this time instead of living it. She’d experienced the agony of victims’ assaults before, as if they were happening to her; Lena had spared her this pain. Jenny gla
nced at the sky in a silent expression of gratitude.

  Elijah was scribbling like crazy. “You say it was a small gray or silver hatchback? Do you know what kind, or even how many doors?”

  Jenny shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t know very much about cars. It looked like an economical car, like a Honda or Toyota or Ford or something, and it was too dark to make out much more than just the overall shape of it.” With a wince she added, “I’m sorry I can’t be more precise.”

  “Do you have any idea why she was here? Did she give you any indication?”

  Furrowing her brow, Jenny posed, “Wasn’t she walking home from the party?”

  “Well, she was headed in the direction of her house, but she shouldn’t have been here if she came straight from the party. She was a good two miles away from where she should have been if she walked directly home.”

  “Do you think she got lost?”

  “It’s possible, I guess. Or else she went somewhere else in between—or was taken somewhere in between. Did she seem like she was running away from something or someone? Like, trying to get away?”

  Jenny shook her head. “I didn’t feel any fear or urgency—not like the first time she contacted me. I don’t get the impression she was running, either, so my guess would be no.”

  Elijah continued to write furiously.

  Jenny pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. “As much as I hate to end this, I really should get going. I don’t want to be too late meeting up with my family.”

  “Of course,” Elijah replied. “I don’t want you to be late either. You’ve given me a fair amount to work with…a place to start, anyway. That’s all I can ask for.”

  Jenny nodded as they headed back toward the car.

  Chapter 4

  Jenny’s energy was dwindling as she stood at the end of the receiving line next to her brothers, who were lined up from oldest to youngest. She had developed an understanding of her mother’s comment the night before about needing a break; there’s only so much sympathy one can receive. Since the service was taking place where her father had grown up as opposed to where she’d been raised, many of the guests were his childhood friends—strangers to Jenny. The people she was most familiar with had sent flowers in their stead.