by Lauren Carr
ICE
A Chris Matheson
Cold Case Mystery
By
Lauren Carr
ICE: Book Information
All Rights Reserved © 2018 by Lauren Carr
Published by Acorn Book Services
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or e-mail: [email protected].
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
ICE: Book Information
Cast of Characters
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
About the Author
Check Out Lauren Carr’s Mysteries!
Murder by Perfection
Cast of Characters
The Geezer Squad
Christopher Matheson (Chris): Single father of three girls. Lost his wife in terrorist attack in France. After his father’s sudden death, he retires from FBI and moves to family farm in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia.
Elliott Prescott: Founding member of the Geezer Squad. He could tell you what he did before he retired, but then he’d have to kill you.
Jacqui Guilfoyle: Retired medical examiner from Pennsylvania. Widow with no children. Lives alone in elegant home on a mountaintop overlooking Shenandoah Valley.
Ray Nolan: Established cyberwarfare task force after 9/11. Retired from Homeland Security after he took a bullet in the back from a home-grown terrorist. Lives with his daughter and her family.
Bruce Harris: Retired attorney general from Virginia. He owns a winery in Purcellville, Virginia. His wife is an architect with her own firm in Leesburg. Has son in college.
Francine Duncan: Retired investigative journalist from the Associated Press. Divorced children and grandchildren living with her.
Characters in Order of Appearance
Sandy Lipton: Twenty-four years ago, this eighteen-year-old woman and her unborn child disappeared.
Carson Lipton: Sandy’s older brother. Cook at family’s diner located across street from racetrack.
Ethel Lipton: Sandy’s mother. Owns apartment complex and greasy spoon diner.
Emma (6 yrs old), Nikki (10 yrs old) and Katelyn (13 yrs old): Chris Matheson’s daughters.
Traveler: Chris’s gray Thoroughbred. Retired race horse.
Sadie (Doberman) and Mocha (golden Labrador): Sadie was a retired law enforcement canine, trained in security. Mocha was a retired search and rescue dog. Doris Matheson’s entourage.
Thor: Female fifteen-pound tan and white rabbit with long floppy ears. Usually seen wearing frilly pink clothes.
Doris Matheson: Chris’s widowed mother and grandmother to his daughters. Her late husband was Kirk Matheson, captain of the West Virginia State Police’s local troop.Director of the Bolivar-Harpers Ferry Public Library.
Sterling: Two-year old German shepherd. Law enforcement canine. Retired after surviving ambush in which his handler was killed. Elliott and Doris were told that he was goofy. They don’t know what that means.
Peyton Davenport: Daughter of Mason Davenport. Vice President of Security at Stardust Casino and Races.
Mason Davenport: CEO of Stardust Casino and Races.
Sierra Clarke: Sixteen-year-old high school student. Part-time employee at the library. Her mother is Helen Clarke.
Helen Clarke: Lieutenant with the West Virginia State Police, in charge of the local homicide division. Divorced. Chris’s first love. Sierra’s mother.
Mona Tabler: Murder victim. Restaurant manager at the Stardust. Divorced. No children. Lived in big house in Shepherdstown.
Shirley Rice: Murder victim. Member of Berkeley County Commission. Lived in Martinsburg.
Opie Fletcher: Murder Suspect. Confessed to killing Mona Tabler, but never arrested.
Victor Sinclair: Jefferson County Prosecutor. Had a crush on Sandy Lipton in high school. His father is Steve Sinclair.
Steve Sinclair: Powerful business lawyer. Mason Davenport has him on retainer.
Rodney Bell: Jefferson County Deputy Sheriff. Chris’s childhood friend.
Felicia Bell: Rodney’s estranged wife. Dated Chris in high school. Helen Clarke’s childhood friend.
Sheriff Grant Bassett: Jefferson County Sheriff. Rodney’s boss.
Tommy Bukowski: Murder victim. Cybercrime expert working with an organized crime family. Body found on Matheson farm.
Regina Patterson: FBI agent leading investigation into Tommy Bukowski’s murder. Chris’s former boss.
Dr. Frederic Poole: Medical doctor. Treated Sandy Lipton during her pregnancy. Chairman of the local pregnancy center.
Tamara Wilcox: Pregnant woman dropped off at Jefferson Medical Center. Died during childbirth.
Angela Romano: Murder victim in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Divorced three times.
Carla Pendleton: Murder victim from Mount Airy, Maryland. Widow.
Patricia Handle: Murder victim. Administrative assistant with the federal government. Never married.
Rachel Pine: Director of Cybersecurity at the Stardust Casino and Races.
Seth Greene: Driver at Stardust Casino and Races.
Epigraph
The wise man must remember that while he is a descendant of the past, he is a parent of the future.
Herbert Spencer
Prologue
Charles Town, West Virginia - Twenty-Four Years Ago
“I get it. It’s cold,” Sandy Lipton told the meteorologist on the news. “That’s why I’m inside where it’s nice and warm. Like why do I need to watch you shivering outside and telling me that I should be inside because it’s freezing?�
�� Snickering at how clever she sounded to herself, she shoved her hand down between the cushions of the threadbare sofa to find the remote to change the television channel.
During the search, the baby inside her stomach kicked as if to object to her waking it up.
“Sorry,” she said while rubbing her plump tummy. “I’m sure you’ll be much more comfortable next week after you come out and we officially meet.” She aimed the remote at the television and changed the channel to a daytime court program.
Across the street, a steady stream of vehicles arrived at the Sure Thing Diner, the most popular lunch spot for jockeys, trainers, and other employees of the Charles Town Races’ stables. Her family owned and operated the greasy spoon and the apartment complex behind their home.
With a cringe, Sandy hoped her mother wouldn’t leave the lawyer’s office until after the lunch time rush had finished. It was difficult enough for her brother, Carson, to cook meals for a diner full of hungry patrons without Ethel Lipton showing up to push his buttons.
No one put Carson in a bad mood faster than their mother.
The memory of Carson’s face, twisted with fury, flashed through Sandy’s mind. Her heart flipped and then flopped. She clutched her chest until the pain subsided.
That’s been happening a lot lately.
Sandy rubbed her stomach. She was in no condition to be on her feet waiting tables so close to her due date.
She could barely manage the apartment complex. The convenient location, inexpensive rent, and month-to-month leasing made The Sure Thing Apartments the go-to for the transient racetrack crowd that frequented the Charles Town Races, the biggest thing in the West Virginia town.
Named after George Washington’s brother, Charles Town fought to cling to its colonial atmosphere. The state’s eastern panhandle had become a magnet for escapees from Virginia’s and Maryland’s metropolitan areas. Train service and highways made commuting easy for families working in and around the nation’s capital to take advantage of living in the Shenandoah Valley.
Nestled just outside the Charles Town city limits, the Thoroughbred racetrack hoped to play a role in the area’s growth. It had no choice. Dwindling attendance drove the high caliber horses to more popular tracks. Lack of revenue meant fewer employees, which had a direct effect on tenants in the apartment complex and patrons at the diner.
The frigid wind outside and bare trees against the gray sky foretold a future that sent a chill down Sandy’s spine. She pushed herself up from the sofa and waddled into the kitchen.
Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror in the back of the china closet, Sandy stopped. Chris Matheson would have made some sort of joke if he could see her long skinny arms and legs and pregnant stomach. She smiled softly.
I miss Chris.
The baby tickled her insides. Lovingly, she rubbed her hands across her stomach and giggled. The baby must have also seen her. He or she must have a sense of humor like Chris.
The sound of a car engine in front of the house prompted her to check the time. Eleven-thirty.
Mom must have finished her meeting with the lawyer. Strange that she would meet with him about the paternity suit without me.
She had enough hope to think that her visitor could have been Chris. The possibility was remote, but it was enough to spur her to run to the door. Just as quickly as the thought crossed her mind, reality set in.
As mad as Chris had been the day before, he’d never come back.
A wave of remorse washed over her when she recalled the fury in his gray eyes.
At least he’s alive. That’s what counts the most.
Sandy checked her reflection in the foyer mirror. The pregnancy had wreaked havoc with her complexion. It didn’t do much good with her hair either. What had once been chestnut had dissolved into the color of dull dark ash. It would all be over in one more week. She wondered how long it would take her body to return to its former slender shape. At eighteen years old, she had youth on her side.
Sandy ran her fingers through her limp hair. The doorbell chimes startled her. She peeked out the window to see a man holding a bouquet so big that the flowers hid his face.
Her heart leapt. Once again, hope washed over her.
It’s Chris after all! He’s thought things over and will give me a chance to explain.
Sandy yanked open the door. A blast of freezing air hit her in the face. Blinking, she shielded her face with her hand against the icy sleet pelting her. While waiting for the wind to subside, she fantasized that when her vision cleared, Chris with his steely gray eyes would be before her to take her into his arms and declare his undying love.
The wintry blast subsided. Sandy Lipton’s vision cleared and her fantasy turned into an icy nightmare.
Chapter One
Present Day
“Good bye, my dear friend.”
The icy winter wind blew across the hilltop to nip at Chris Matheson’s nose and cheeks. The bare branches of the oak tree behind him danced as if to take part in the memorial ceremony.
As their aged leader had often done before them, the Doberman and golden Labrador contemplated the farm down below. Even Traveler, Chris’s gray dapple Thoroughbred, hung his head in a show of respect for their departed friend.
“Winston, you were such a good, brave, and loyal friend. We all miss you so much. We’ll never forget you.”
Chris grasped the lid of the urn and pried it off. The wind immediately took hold of some ashes to scatter them like dark snowflakes across the field. With the back of his hand, he wiped away the tears of remorse and cold from his eyes. He sprinkled the ashes of his beloved German shepherd under the tree that had been his favorite spot from which to watch over his domain.
When he had finished, Chris put the lid back on the urn, stuffed it into the saddlebag, and climbed up onto his horse.
The ceremony over, Sadie, the Doberman, and Mocha, the Labrador, headed off to the farmhouse. Retired law enforcement canines, they preferred the warmth and comfort of the indoors.
Chris looked out across the farm, one hundred and fifty acres of hills, forest, and pastures that had been in his family for three generations. A tree lined road ran along the Shenandoah River at the bottom of the hill.
He spotted the yellow roof of a Jefferson County school bus up the road. The icy cold tingling the back of his hands and cheeks forewarned of a snow storm mixed with ice brewing. Many speculated that the schools would be closed the next day. If Chris failed to meet the bus at the end of the lane, the driver would return his daughters to the elementary school. Then, he’d have to go to the school to pick them up.
Chris urged Traveler to gallop down to the bottom of the hill and make a sharp right. As the bus neared the stop at end of their lane, he leaned forward in the saddle to urge Traveler to catch up. The children on board shrieked with delight at the impromptu race.
His ten-year-old daughter Nikki was the loudest. “That’s my dad!” she said to the bus driver before hopping down the steps.
Chris dismounted to give her a quick hug and kiss. Anxious to enjoy a horseback ride, Nikki shoved her backpack into her father’s hands and climbed up onto Traveler.
His youngest child, Emma took longer to disembark.
A widower, Chris and his three daughters had returned to the family home six months earlier. Already, the pretty blond-haired girl with a wide toothy smile was the most popular second grader at Blue Ridge Elementary.
“You be sure to get home before the ice storm comes, Mrs. Brady,” Emma was saying when Chris arrived at the door to hurry her along. “I’d hate for you to have an accident.”
“Thank you, Emma,” Mrs. Brady said.
“Mrs. Murphy says that the bridges freeze first. Did you know that?”
“Emma,” Chris said, “Mrs. Brady knows how to drive a bus. She knows all about the bridges.” He he
ld his hand out to the little girl clad in a pink coat with matching boots, hat, and gloves.
“What do you have to do to become a bus driver? What’s that?” She reached for a button on the dashboard.
Chris lunged up the steps, threw his arms around his daughter, and carried her off the bus. Laughing, the children waved good-bye to her.
Nikki had input the security code on the keypad to open the metal gate securing the lane leading up to the red-brick farmhouse. By the time Chris carried Emma off the bus, she was leading Traveler into the barn.
Even though Nikki had grown up in the suburbs of northern Virginia, she had been riding horses since she was old enough to walk. Her first words were, “I want a pony.” In spite of her slight frame, the ten-year-old had yet to meet a horse she couldn’t handle.
“Hey, Daddy,” Emma asked her father after he secured the gate, “what’s Bastille Day?”
Chris cleared his throat before answering. “That’s a French holiday. Pretty much like our Fourth of July. Why do you ask?”
“I overheard one of the parents asking Mrs. Murphy if it was true that Mommy was killed on Bastille Day.”
“What did Mrs. Murphy say?”
“I didn’t hear. She shushed the lady and looked like this at her.” Emma scrunched up her face, narrowed her eyes, and furrowed her brow to make an amusing expression.
In spite of the topic, Chris had to laugh.
“It wasn’t a selfie moment.” She gave her head such a firm shake that her hat fell off. Chris picked it up from the frozen ground and knelt to put it back on her head. “Is it true that terrorists killed Mommy?”
He gazed into her big blue eyes—so much like her mother’s. Emma’s bubbly personality was another trait she had inherited from her. “Yes, honey. Mommy was killed in a terrorist attack.”
“Why did they decide to take my mommy away, Daddy?”
“Because there are some people who are just plain evil. They do evil things.”
“But isn’t it your job to catch them? Why don’t you arrest them, Daddy?”
“Because…” Chris stopped and sighed. “How do I explain this?” He swallowed. “It was hard after your mommy died for me to take care of all of you.”