“It’s actually not.” Emily tried to keep her sadness at bay. “The quilting keeps me busy, that’s all. Lucky for me, Tom carried generous life insurance, and the county where the accident occurred offered a settlement, too.” Her mouth twisted. “They acknowledged that much fault, anyway.”
The other woman’s eyes held compassion. “I’m sorry to remind you.”
“I never forget,” she said simply, and led the way to the kitchen. “It would give me great pleasure to know that quilt would be loved.”
“I can promise you that.” Sophie sniffed, laughed and swiped at her eyes all at the same time. “Darn it, I’m not usually so emotional.”
“Is there a reason?”
Their eyes met. “I think so,” Sophie said ruefully. “I haven’t even told Daniel yet. You won’t say anything, will you?”
“Of course not.” Hit painfully by the memory of the magical moment when she had first suspected she was pregnant, Emily struggled to sound pleased and to hide her grief. Joy was there, too, though, for a woman who had come so close to not having a chance at love or family. Surprising herself, Emily gave her a quick hug. “Congratulations. On the wedding and your secret.”
This time, Sophie’s laugh was less complicated. “Thank you. And to think I came by to find out how you’re holding up.”
Over coffee, Emily surprised herself again by being more open than she’d been with anybody but Sean in a long time. Why it helped to hear what Sophie had gone through was a mystery. Misery loves company?
“I still have nightmares,” Sophie admitted, “but so much good came out of the whole experience, I count my blessings.”
“Daniel.”
“He’s number one. But finding out my mother didn’t commit suicide, that she was murdered and would never have left me by choice, that means more to me than I can tell you.”
Emily nodded, feeling a sting of tears in her own eyes now.
“The auction was a huge success, and we saved Misty Beach, and that means a lot to me because it was so important to my aunt.” Whose murder, Emily knew, had started Sophie Thomsen’s ordeal. “But what I really came here to tell you is that I found out I’m stronger than I ever believed I could be. Without Daniel, that monster would have killed me anyway. But I didn’t make it easy for him. Knowing I’m capable of fighting back has changed the way I see myself.”
Emily found her head bobbing. “I…hadn’t thought of it that way, but I thought—” she smiled crookedly “—and moved fast enough to save myself. Although I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life as Sean.” Her cheeks warmed. “Sean Holbeck. He’s a detective with the sheriff’s department. He only moved in next door a month ago. Before that, the house was empty for ages.”
Sophie frowned. “Daniel says there’s some suggestion the guy may have been back casing your place, trying to figure out whether he could get in again.”
“Louella Shoop claims to have seen someone.”
Sophie wrinkled her nose, but said, “I’ve never heard her make anything up.”
Emily hoped her shiver wasn’t obvious. “Why would he even think about coming back? It doesn’t make sense. And…do you know how creepy that is?”
“Oh, I can imagine.” Sophie reached across the table to squeeze Emily’s hand. “Part of me thinks you should take a Caribbean vacation right now. But…”
At her hesitation, Emily said, “I’d have to come home eventually.”
“Yes.”
They looked at each other, and Emily suspected her own gaze was as troubled as Sophie’s.
*****
Sean was in Daniel’s office when the jury coordinator for Burris County returned his call, which was great timing as well as a minor miracle, given that this was Saturday. He’d found her home phone, and she’d volunteered to go into the office to do the search for him.
What she had to say wasn’t so great.
“It doesn’t appear we’ve ever sent Mr. Roff a summons. He certainly hasn’t actually served on a jury,” she told Sean. “Not in this county. He hasn’t been resident here very long.”
“Five years.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, now sounding tentative. “Isn’t he that high school teacher who was murdered?”
“Yes.” Frustrated beyond belief, he thanked her and ended the call. “You caught that?” he asked Daniel.
“Unfortunately. Which leaves us no further ahead where motive is concerned.”
Daniel had already asked Roff’s friends and fellow teachers whether he might have witnessed a crime or had occasion to testify as an expert witness. Everyone had been quite sure he hadn’t. “That’s the kind of thing you talk about in the break room,” as one of the teachers said.
“Bev Sheahan from CAU called, by the way,” Daniel continued. “No surprise, my scene was as clean as yours. This guy almost has to be covering himself head to toe. I’d say a Tyvek suit, except I’ve never seen one that wasn’t bright white.”
Sean agreed. “I’ve been thinking about that. What about a wetsuit? He could move well in it, and if it’s black he’d blend right into the night. Once he walks away from the house, he could pull down the hood, whip on jeans and a sweatshirt right over it, and who would look at him twice?”
Daniel grunted. “You heard any more from Mendoza?”
“He suggested a lunch meeting tomorrow. That’s partly why I stopped by. I was hoping you’d want to join us.”
“I take it his boss doesn’t know?”
Sean shook his head. “He’ll be fired if Chief Lundy finds out he’s leaking information to us.”
“That guy is an idiot,” Daniel said flatly. “But I have to tell you, after taking this job, I figured out pretty quick that most of my predecessors were idiots, too. The cream of the crop does not always end up in small town police departments.”
Sean grimaced in agreement. “Rural sheriff’s departments, either.”
“You stick just because you grew up around here?”
“I can’t think of a better place to live,” he said simply. “After the academy, I became a deputy for Washington County, which mixes urban and rural.” Washington County took in Portland and its environs. “I drove home to Cannon Beach on a lot of my days off, and a couple of years along, I decided I’d be happier living over here on the coast. Tillamook County didn’t happen to have an opening around then, but Burris County did.” He shrugged. “We don’t have the same amount of excitement, but I can’t say I miss it.”
Daniel rolled his shoulders. “No. I was trying to ditch the excitement when I took this job. I had no idea what a pain in the ass it would be trying to keep the department staffed, though.”
“Which is why a lot of small agencies take whatever they can get.”
“Unfortunately.” Colburn sighed. “Back to the investigation. I’m stymied for the moment. I’ll keep digging into Roff’s background, but my gut says I’m wasting my time.”
“Mine agrees. I’m getting desperate enough to have bothered to find out where Frank Lowe liked to fill his gas tank, what he usually ordered for lunch and, hey, speaking of guts, that he’d been gobbling antacids like jelly beans, but none of that is useful.”
Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Ulcer?”
“The ME can’t believe he wasn’t puking blood.”
Daniel laughed. “On that note, who’s hungry?”
*****
“Mind if I turn this on?” Sean asked, already reaching for the power button on the small TV that sat at one end of Emily’s kitchen counter. He’d just arrived. In the nick of time, Emily told him, since the lasagna was ready to come out of the oven.
“Of course not,” she said, reaching for a pair of potholders. “Oh. The local news is on, isn’t it?”
“I want to know what they’re saying about this latest murder.”
Lundy liked any excuse to hold a press conference and posture for the cameras. Sean prayed he was capable of some discretion.
A commercial finish
ed, followed by an anchorman looking somber. “Another brutal murder in Burris County,” he intoned. Some still photos rolled as he talked. Traynor in his judicial robes. An outside view of the courthouse and then the judge’s home. “Jennifer Whitburn attended a press conference held just an hour ago, where North Fork Police Chief Howard Lundy issued a statement and answered questions. Jennifer, what did you learn?”
After the usual brief pause, the attractive blonde said gravely, “The murder of Circuit Court Presiding Judge Charles Tranor is unquestionably linked to the two recent killings in this county that have already raised alarm. That much was clear from Chief Lundy’s remarks. Once again, a pane of glass was cut from a window, allowing the killer to reach in and open that window. Chief Lundy shared a further, horrifying detail with us.”
Oh, shit. “No, no, no,” Sean groaned.
Uselessly. That self-important ass Lundy appeared behind a podium, a forest of microphones in front of him. His forehead was creased with concern, or a pretence at deep thought.
“Two letters were written in blood on the wall above the bathtub,” he said. “DD.”
A voice shouted out a question.
“I cannot comment on the investigations being conducted by other law enforcement agencies. I can tell you that the similarities at each scene have been significant.”
Sean stared in disbelief as he pontificated on about how they were all searching for one killer – or perhaps a pair of killers. The significance of the two letters was not yet known, although there was speculation that they stood for dishonorable discharge.
Emily touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Is he really that stupid?” He snorted and answered himself. “No, he’s that self-important. Wants to look smarter than everyone else. I know damn sure he’s never investigated a homicide in his life.”
The anchorman reappeared, made a few comments while looking deeply worried, and then said, “When we return from a commercial break…” Sean stabbed the power button. The TV went dark.
His phone rang. Wilcynski.
He answered. “I saw it. I’m still stunned.”
The lieutenant was steaming. He vented for several minutes about Lundy before saying resignedly, “What’s done is done. The sheriff is going to be seriously pissed, though.”
“He can join the crowd,” Sean growled.
*****
Daniel understood the choice of restaurant, even though he’d have rather eaten at the Sea Watch Café or gone home to have a sandwich with Sophie. The Waves, attached to the Surfside hotel, served conventional American food in its heaviest and blandest form. The benefit here was that Sean had been able to reserve the back room, where they could talk privately as they ate. Plus, Chief Lundy didn’t appear often in Cape Trouble.
Sean had arrived before Daniel. Otherwise, they straggled in by ones and twos. Sheriff Mackay walked in with Lieutenant Wilcynski, Detective Payne on his own, and Mendoza last, looking harried. Full attendance, and on a Sunday. Workaholics, one and all, Daniel thought.
“I appreciate you all driving down here to meet me,” Rey Mendoza said as he pulled out a chair. “As you know, my chief doesn’t see any reason we can’t keep our investigation in-house.” He shook his head. “With a serial killer operating, sharing information is critical.”
When the waitress appeared to take orders, they talked idly about the projected opening of the fancy new resort being built just the other side of the point and a fatality accident that had happened the previous weekend south on 101. The minute the door closed behind her, Mendoza said, “I suppose you all saw the press conference.”
“We saw it,” Sheriff Mackay said tersely. “I had words with your boss last night. He claims he had no idea we were trying to hold back that detail.”
“How could he not?” Wilcynski muttered.
“I begged him not to go public with the letters,” Mendoza exploded before visibly collecting himself. “That’s not why I wanted this meeting, though.” The smallest pause ensured all eyes were on him. “We have a witness.”
“What?” That was Detective Payne, but someone else sucked in a breath and all of them leaned forward, waiting.
“I should have said, a witness of sorts. A woman a couple doors down called in a report about a prowler,” the North Fork detective said. “Her dog started to bark, she looked out the window and saw someone running across her back yard and vaulting the fence. In response to her call, a patrol unit came by, the officer walked around her house, then let her know the trespasser seemed to be long gone.”
“What time did she call it in?” Sean asked.
“3:08. The responding unit arrived at 3:15.” He shrugged. “Given seven minutes, the guy could have been half a mile away by then.”
“Not if he was on foot,” Payne argued.
Sean shook his head. “He didn’t walk to Frank Lowe’s neighborhood. And look how far apart the three scenes are. The guy’s got transportation.”
“Wouldn’t the woman who made the call have noticed if a car started up nearby?” Daniel said. “After seeing the guy, she had to have been on alert.”
Mendoza was already shaking his head. “She swears she didn’t hear anything.”
“Nobody remembers hearing a car at the time of the other murders, either,” Lieutenant Wilcynski said thoughtfully.
Sean looked the most tired and frustrated of any of them, but Daniel knew that had more to do with his neighbor’s problems than it did with this investigation. Now he shook his head. “You know he has a vehicle, probably parked out at the highway for the first two murders.”
“It would have been easy to walk that distance from the Lowe’s house,” Wilcynski said. “He’d have stood out a little more in Cape Trouble.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Not many people awake in the middle of the night, and most people throw a slipper at their dog if his barking wakes them up.”
“Could the woman give any kind of description?” Daniel asked.
“A man.” Mendoza let out a tired breath. “She seems sure of that. Tall. Dressed in black, or at least a dark color. Either dark-haired or wearing something like a stocking cap.”
Sean’s eyes met Daniel’s. They were thinking the same thing. Hood, very possibly of a wet suit.
“She says she wouldn’t have been able to see him at all, except he passed in front of their garden shed, which is painted white. With moonlight providing enough contrast, she got a good look. Her guess is that the guy jumped into her yard over the fence, too, and shook it enough to rattle the gate. That would have been an unusual enough sound at night to get her dog worked up.”
“The responding officer didn’t happen to pass a walker, biker, car coming out of the neighborhood…?” It was Sheriff Mackay, who had been silent until now.
“Unfortunately, the officer approached from the opposite direction. He did cruise slowly through the neighborhood after looking around her place, but didn’t see anyone.”
“Guy’s a fucking ghost,” Payne observed.
Muscles bulged in Sean’s jaw. “Not a ghost. This time, somebody saw him. If a patrol car had happened to be a couple blocks away, we might have had him, or at least an I.D.”
The arrival of the waitress carrying a tray brought the discussion to a close. They were able to talk more as they ate, but mostly throwing out information that didn’t seem to be new to anyone. The sheriff looked intrigued at the name of Judge Tranor’s much-younger lover, but he didn’t say why. When it was just the two of them, Daniel would ask him more. In the almost two years since he’d taken the job in Cape Trouble, he and Alex Mackay had become friends. Daniel felt comfortable enough with Sean to call him a friend, too.
Mendoza and Wilcynski, he didn’t know at all. So far, so good with Mendoza; at least he had the balls to take an end-around his boss when it was the right thing to do. Daniel hadn’t made up his mind about Jason Payne, except it was obvious he was green. In a larger law enforcement agency, he wouldn’t have made detec
tive for years, given his relative inexperience. The thought afforded Daniel some amusement when he remembered what Sean had said. And, yeah, he’d been right. They did take what they could get.
Which made Daniel wonder a whole lot about Lieutenant B.J. Wilcynski, whose credentials would have gotten him hired just about anywhere. So why here? Another question to ask Mackay. Probably Wilcynski was a case of burn-out, as Daniel himself had been, but Daniel liked to know people he worked with. Payne was smart, but also an eager beaver and cocky as hell. Wilcynski, though, was a harder read.
“Something that’s been worrying me,” Sean said abruptly. “Probably unrelated, but I thought I’d throw it out.”
He had everyone’s attention.
“Most of you know my next-door neighbor, Emily Drake, had a break-in.”
Daniel had an immediate, horrified understanding of where Sean was going, and he didn’t know why he hadn’t made the same leap.
Sean told them the basics, including what Louella Shoop had reported seeing. Dark shape circling Emily’s house. Probably wearing something over his head. Getaway on a bicycle.
There was a long silence.
Wilcynski broke it. “What could possibly connect her to the three victims we have?”
“What connects Roff to the others?” Sean countered, face grim. “And no, there’s nothing obvious here, either. She says she didn’t know any of the victims. She’s an artist, a businesswoman. The only attorney she’s ever hired was the one who handled her husband’s estate after his death.”
She says. Did Sean doubt she was telling the truth? Daniel wondered.
“Most burglars wear dark clothing and case homes,” Alex said mildly.
“That’s true,” Daniel said, “but this guy was dead-set on getting his hands on Emily, not anything in her house.”
Jason appeared appalled, Lieutenant Wilcynski impassive, the others interested but not necessarily convinced.
Sean pushed his plate away. His lack of appetite showed in how much food he’d left and the sharper jut of his cheekbones. “Like I said, there probably isn’t a connection. I don’t want to believe there is. But…it crossed my mind.”
Twisted Threads (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 3) Page 13