“Well the victimology wouldn’t be much. All we know about her was that she went camping.”
“Why would she go alone?” he said.
“You’re right. You’d think there would be a group of them, or at least another person.”
“This is going to be a tough case. Especially given your uncle couldn’t solve it.”
“Yeah, I’ll have to ask him about it.” She got up from her chair and began writing a preliminary profile. “So this is what we have so far about our killer.”
Killer knew the woods and remote areas well enough to hike to the camping location and to find a suitable place to pose the body.
It appeared that the killer hunted Andrews down—crime was not opportunistic or crime of passion.
It appeared that Andrews tried to escape and run. Two sets of footprints—one size seven (victim, no shoes) and one size twelve (heavy hiking boot).
Wounds were overkill and severe.
Hooked knife used—specialty, hunting, fighting, antique?
Weapon not found.
Nothing was stolen—wallet, cell phone, binoculars, infrared binoculars, and personal items still at scene. Victim’s car, Toyota SUV, was still parked in the parking area—nothing appeared missing or interfered with according to forensics.
Katie stepped back. “That’s a slim profile.”
“You have to start somewhere,” McGaven said, sounding more like his usual self. “How long does it take to get to the area where she camped?”
Katie opened an expanding file where there was a map of the county. Her uncle or his partner had marked the camp area as well as two different routes to the campsite. “Interesting. It’s an area that I’ve never been to before, but I’d guess from the map legend it would be about three or four miles from the parking lot at Dodge Ridge. Here.” She noted and then secured the map on the wall.
“It’s not that far, but it’s a rough ride to the parking area—really steep in some places.”
“I don’t know. Some of the hills are extreme hills and since it’s not an area frequented often, the trail is probably almost non-existent,” she said. “So…” She updated her profile to include:
Killer an experienced hiker. Park ranger, mountain climber, outdoor enthusiast, mountaineer etc.
“Katie, let’s pick this up tomorrow,” said McGaven.
“Yeah, you’re right. I need to get home to see how my uncle’s doing.” She was tired and hungry, and wanted to put these crime scene photos to bed for a while—out of her mind. In the morning she would have fresh eyes and they would begin again.
Twenty-Four
Wednesday 1645 hours
When Katie pulled into her driveway she saw a dark navy pickup truck parked to the far right side. She didn’t know who it belonged to and thought it was strange that her uncle had a visitor. Every type of bad scenario flooded through her, stirring her anxiety awake.
“Uncle Wayne?” she said, trying to disguise the worry in her voice as she walked through the front door. Her kitchen had been cleaned and the dishes were drying in her bamboo dish rack.
“Cisco?” she called.
Looking down at the coffee table, as she passed through, she noticed a 9 mm handgun lying on it, along with two extra magazines sitting next to it. Her fear cranked to horror—the gun wasn’t hers. She grabbed it up and checked to see if it was loaded and if there was a bullet in the chamber—there wasn’t.
“Uncle Wayne!” she cried, walking through the house, panic rising in her chest.
She stopped and strained to listen. There were voices coming from the backyard—men’s voices, several high-pitch barks from Cisco. She sprinted to the back door and swung it open ready to fight, only to find her uncle sitting with Nick at the picnic table and Cisco running around with one of his toys dangling from his mouth.
Flooded with relief, Katie tried to regain herself before they noticed she’d been alarmed. She willed her pulse calm and her breathing back to normal. “Hey, what’s going on?” she said at last.
“Nick came by and we started talking,” the sheriff said, turning to greet her. “We’re both in a tight spot in our lives, and well, it’s been nice to chat.” Her uncle looked tired and worn out. He wore an old T-shirt with dark cargo pants and deck shoes without socks.
“Everything okay?” she said. “I saw the 9 mm on the coffee table and…”
“Everything is fine,” her uncle stressed. “Nick brought the gun over here for you to keep it for him. I didn’t know where you wanted to keep it, or if you had a special place you kept your weapons.”
Katie wasn’t sure if she understood why.
“Just for safekeeping,” said Nick.
She finally understood her old sergeant didn’t want it around him because he was worried about what he might do with it. It was quite common among returning soldiers with injuries and PTSD to wrestle with these types of feelings. It weighed on her heart, but she was happy he was mindful enough to realize that there shouldn’t be a gun at his place.
“Okay,” was all she could say.
“You look tired,” her uncle said.
“Actually, I’m going to agree with you—I am tired.”
Cisco ran over and dropped a slobbery ball at her feet. She picked it up and flung it across the yard.
“There’s some leftovers in the fridge. Short ribs, salad, and rolls,” he said, and Katie observed that his mood had improved.
It was at that moment that Katie noticed the electronic tracking device around his right ankle. Seeing her uncle in his current state, when only a week ago he was the strong sheriff of the county, made her crash back to reality. The facts sat in front of her and there was no escaping it.
“That sounds good,” she said and went back in to the kitchen where she pulled out the foil-wrapped food and made herself a plate. The meat was still warm and it smelled fantastic.
The door opened as both men came inside followed closely by Cisco. She never thought that those two would actually be good for one another. Her uncle kissed her cheek. “I forgot how nice it was being in this house again. I spent a lot of time here with your parents.”
Katie began eating and tried not to think about how her family was being systematically taken down, one by one—at least that’s how it felt to her. Suddenly, she wanted to be anywhere else but home.
“Uncle Wayne? Why don’t you let me go over to the house to pack some things for you? Like clothes… toiletries… and anything else you might want.”
“I was thinking about that, but didn’t want to burden you.”
“You’re not a burden. Don’t ever say that.”
“I was going to start ordering some stuff from the Internet.”
Katie looked at Nick. “Nick and I can go over there tonight.”
“Well… I don’t know…” the sheriff said.
“It won’t take more than an hour round trip,” she stressed.
“I have no problem going with Scotty, sir,” Nick said.
“Well, okay. It would be nice to have some fresh clothes.”
“I’m sorry, I should have stopped on my way home tonight.” Katie finished eating and then grabbed a duffle bag and a tote. “You’ll be okay?” She didn’t take the time to change from her work clothes into something casual—she still had her gun and badge attached to her waist.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ve got Cisco to keep me company.”
* * *
They both rode in silence until she pulled into her uncle’s driveway. She jumped out and punched in the security code. As they drove up the driveway, Katie noticed that the crime scene tape was gone and surmised that John must’ve removed it.
“Nice place,” Nick said.
“It really is… the property is so pretty up here,” she replied, absentmindedly, flashbacks of finding her aunt flashing through her mind at the sight of the house.
“Hey,” he said catching her attention and gently touching her arm. “I know that things feel imp
ossible right now, but it’s not going to stay that way. Look at everything you’ve been through… worked through… and survived. You’re stronger than you think you are. I find it difficult to believe that after all you’ve been through that this would cause you to stumble. No way,” he said.
Katie always felt safe around Nick. There was no other way to describe it—she felt safe, calm, and at peace. She dreaded going into the house again, but it was important to get her uncle’s things. This wasn’t just about her—it was about being there and helping her uncle. He was so important to the community and to the employees at the sheriff’s department.
She squeezed Nick’s hand. “Thank you.”
Katie unlocked the front door and immediately noticed something was wrong.
“What is it?” Nick asked.
“The alarm isn’t set.”
“Who’s been here besides the police?”
“John from forensics, but he’s such a stickler for procedure.”
Katie pushed the door open further. Shrugging off her silly hesitation, she entered. Everything looked the same. She turned on the overhead lights illuminating the entire room.
Nick shut the door behind them. “Everything seems okay.”
The face of her aunt flashed into her mind. The wounds. The blood. The desperate bloody handprints on the bedroom door. Blood spatter on the walls and pooling on the floor tripped through her memory as if it were a horror movie in slow motion.
All the hideous depictions from that morning spun through her head.
“No!” she yelled, and then realized that she had uttered out loud.
Nick was at her side. “What’s wrong?”
Feeling foolish and unsteady, she said, “I’m sorry. Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
Nick searched her face, trying to decide if he believed her. They were standing at the doorway to the master bedroom. He noticed the blood on the door and walls, and didn’t wait to take Katie by the arm, steering her into the bedroom. “You’re not alone,” he said adamantly. “I’m going to wait right here until you’ve finished packing.”
“Okay,” she said shakily. She put down the duffle bag on the stripped bed. Opening the dresser drawers, she began pulling out clothing that her uncle would need. Once she was finished, she went to the walk-in closet and then the bathroom. The entire time, Nick spoke to her, which helped her to relax and pack more efficiently.
“I’m surprised that you haven’t asked me about the investigation,” he said. With certain words, his southern drawl took over, especially when he spoke slowly.
“I figured you would tell me when there was something to report,” she said folding some shirts. Nick’s voice helped her to relax as she listened with interest to his update on Detective Hamilton.
“He is quite the talker, which he didn’t seem like the first time I saw him. He loves to chat with baristas, waitresses, and he’s pretty loose lipped with colleagues. Not a good thing for a cop, but good for us,” he explained. “It seems that he’s taking all the credit he can from your investigation into the Sam Stiles case. After Stiles’s body had been identified through DNA, he completely went full steam ahead with your findings. Appalling, but not surprising. They homed in on the auto garage owner and co-worker. It wasn’t entirely clear, but there was some type of fallout between them and the victim. The best I could figure from what he was sayin’ was that Stiles borrowed money and then got involved in gambling, losing more money, and the garage wanted it back. It got to the point where the business was in risk of shutting down. From there, it’s not difficult to understand what happened next.”
Katie listened carefully and in her mind she knew that something had gone wrong, not the way they had planned it, causing the death of Sam Stiles. What didn’t make sense to her, at least at the moment, was why kill his wife so many years later?
“Almost done,” she said as she grabbed her uncle’s cell phone and charger before running downstairs to grab his backup laptop and briefcase.
Back at the front door, she stood for a moment, trying to remember what else he might need.
“Anything else?” Nick asked.
“No, I think that’s it.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Katie quickly reset the alarm system.
The daylight had faded and it was night time.
As Katie backed down the driveway and secured the wrought iron gate, she decided to ask the question burning through her mind. “Nick, what made you stop by my house today?”
“I see we’re changing the focus from you to me.”
“Of course.”
“Just what your uncle said. I don’t want a firearm around the house right now, so I thought I’d bring the gun over to your house for safekeeping. We had a good talk. The sheriff is a good listener. I like him.”
“Did he have some insight for you?” she said.
“Some.”
“Like?” she asked.
“A gentleman never tells.”
“I figured you might say that.”
“What I will say is … he’s hurting, I mean really hurting right now. Can you imagine someone you loved being murdered—and then to top it off, they blame you?”
Katie drove in quiet solitude, unable to answer and lost in her thoughts. She glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed a black truck that had pulled out from one of the country roads, license plate XLG_344Y. Katie pressed her foot on the accelerator.
“What’s up?” Nick asked calmly, reaching for something on the door to hold on to.
“Large black truck following us. I saw the same one the other day when McGaven and I were running down leads on the missing person’s cold case.”
“Testing to see what their intentions are?”
“Yep. Last time I was in the unmarked police vehicle and now this is my personal car. It’s clear this person has been watching me—and following me for a while.”
Katie’s Jeep took the back road tight corners with ease—she had done it a million times. The black truck followed, swerving over the double yellow lines.
“Still there?” he asked glancing at the side mirror.
“Yep.”
“Take a right on the main road.”
“That’s my next move,” she said as she gripped the steering wheel harder. A bus passed in the other direction and blew the horn because the truck was hogging part of their lane. “He’s going to get someone killed.”
“Is there another way off this road to get to the main street?”
“Yes. It’s been under construction, but it’s passable.”
“Your Jeep should have no problem, but that truck will once the terrain changes.”
“I want to know who it is… I can’t tell who’s behind the wheel or if there’s a passenger. The windows are too dark.”
Katie took a hard right up the rural road past an apple orchard. To her surprise, the truck followed, taking the corner too fast and fishtailing down one of the orchard rows parallel to the path she was on.
“What the hell?” said Nick.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Tossing it to Nick, she said, “Here, record it.”
Nick didn’t waste time. Bracing himself on the bumpy road, he pressed record and, steady as he could, he moved the cell phone around to keep the truck in view.
“You okay?” he said.
“This is easy,” she said sarcastically.
The black truck sped up, cut its lights, and they couldn’t see it anymore in the darkened orchard. Within seconds, the stealth truck made a sharp turn in front of them.
Katie stomped on the brakes, causing the truck to veer to the right. The Jeep skidded in the loose dirt and barely missed the truck by inches. Both vehicles stopped. Dust rose in the air. Lights suddenly blinded Katie and Nick as the truck shone its high beams directly at them.
Unable to see, Katie dropped her vehicle into reverse and pressed the accelerator. They shot backwards as she cranked the steering wheel left, swingi
ng the front end round so they faced the opposite direction.
“Can you see?” she yelled.
“Not really,” he replied.
“Hang on!”
Katie was able to maneuver the Jeep down one of the orchard rows and sped off again, as branches slapped at the windshield and sides. The headlights of the truck appeared behind them, closing in.
“Where does this lead?” Nick yelled.
“I’m not quite sure,” she said. All she knew was that they were still up in the first set of hills near her uncle’s place, surrounded by gullies and valleys.
The black truck was now inches from the Jeep’s bumper.
Katie glanced down at her speedometer: it was pushing sixty-seven miles per hour. The truck slammed her vehicle from behind, causing it to sputter and fishtail, but Katie held strong.
The truck hit them again, whipping their heads forward on impact, and then pulling back.
“I think I know where we’re going, and we need to stop,” she shouted, slamming her foot down on the brakes and grinding the Jeep to a halt. The black truck screeched to a stop behind her and gunned the engine, as if challenging her, letting her know that he was still there.
“So you want to play?” she said under her breath.
Katie stomped the accelerator and the Jeep charged forward again. She began silently counting backward, slowly, her focus sharp and nerves steady.
5…
The truck started closing the gap behind her.
4…
The truck flashed its headlights.
3…
Closer.
2…
She made a drastic last-second turn to the left without warning.
1…
Engine roaring, and like a black serpent in the night, the truck kept driving straight for a few seconds before there was silence—and the headlights disappeared over the edge.
Katie had overcorrected her Jeep and couldn’t slow it; fishtailing wildly it rolled over a few times before landing on the roof between two fully loaded apple trees—wheels still spinning. The engine stopped. Steam rose from the radiator. The one remaining headlight sputtered, slowly dimmed, and finally went out, leaving the apple orchard dark and quiet.
Flowers on Her Grave Page 14