Next, Katie opened the binder with the crime scene photos of Cynthia tied to the tree. The slashes on the bloodied white T-shirt in the evidence bag matched the photographs of her body taken at the morgue. They were neat and proportional, having a terrifying note of self-control to them.
As hard as she tried, Katie couldn’t separate this murder from her aunt’s, the vicious attack, overkill slicing, and the type of weapon used.
What’s the connection?
She quickly looked at the rope, sleeping bag, backpack, and tent supporting poles before beginning to pack everything away. Suddenly, she paused, remembering the sliver of blue fabric she found in her uncle’s yard. Could it be from a tent, or backpack? She looked to the note on the profile of her killer: “comfortable hiking and camping and even climbing if that were necessary.”
She picked up the folder that held the background information on Cynthia Andrews’ family. McGaven had done preliminary backgrounds for Andrews’ mom (Sarah B. Andrews), sister (Tara Anne Andrews O’Conner), cousin (Charles F. Harding), aunt and uncle (Mr. and Mrs. Robert S. Harding). No one had a criminal background, though some had minor citations including one trespass, two disorderly conducts, and a dozen parking tickets. It appeared that her dad and grandparents were deceased.
McGaven had taken the background checks a step further to find out what everyone did for a living and their special interests. He managed to pull some personal information using the main police database. It gave a better picture of who they were along with the statements they gave to the investigating detectives. Andrews’ mom worked as a marketing associate, her sister was a kindergarten teacher, her cousin managed a car rental company, and her aunt and uncle owned their own sporting goods store.
A red flag went up for Katie when she saw the mention of a sporting goods store. She read further to find they’d owned the store for almost fifteen years and were avid outdoor adventurers. They probably would be able to hike, climb, and camp with little difficulty. But why would they kill their niece? Financial gain? Deceit? Jealousy? Katie didn’t see it. Maybe it was a coincidence that they had a camping and sporting goods store? Did Cynthia buy her equipment there before her trip? She stared at the map.
How did the killer know Andrews was going to be there?
Was he already there and waited for the perfect moment to strike?
Was the killer following her so closely that he knew where she was going to be?
Katie scrutinized her lists and the maps. The killer had to have known where she was going. The only people who would have known she was going camping to get research on the King’s Gold based on their statements were:
Dr. Brandon Wills (best friend)
Dr. Celeste Harper (Ph.D. head of the board for Cynthia Andrews)
Possibly Aunt and Uncle Harding (owners of sporting goods store: Everything Outdoors)
Katie pulled out her personal iPad with notes about her uncle’s case. Persons of interest included:
Clarence Warner (arrested and swore revenge, saved every newspaper article)
Retired Detective Paul Patton (crashed anniversary party, felt cheated out of working cases)
Retired Detective Kenneth Teagen (worked cases with Uncle Wayne, felt cheated/disrespected, health issues but blames Uncle Wayne)
Her office phone rang, startling her back to the present.
“Scott,” she said.
“Hey, it’s Denise.”
“Hey there,” said Katie as she smiled.
“Just a quick piece of information that I thought you’d like to know. The license plate XLG_344Y that was on the car that chased you is registered to a Robert Stanley Harding, but the truck actually belonged to a Mark Steven Messinger and he reported it missing days before.”
“Harding?” Katie reveled. “Is that the same Harding who owns Everything Outdoors Sporting Goods?”
“Yes. How did you know that?”
“Denise, you’ve just helped to put another piece into the puzzle. Talk to you later.” She hung up. Moments later, her cell phone alerted her to a text message from Nick:
Meet me at the Night Owl at 6 p.m.—Don’t dress like a cop.
Thirty-Three
Monday 1815 hours
Katie drove to the Night Owl, a dive bar located in the most historical area of Pine Valley. With its flashing neon sign advertising its name, the bar was in stark contrast to the beautifully restored buildings that surrounded it. It was a place known for havoc that attracted some of the roughest characters around. Katie had never been there, but there were plenty of stories over the past five years about knifings, brawls that ended with someone getting thrown through the window, and several homicides. It was obvious Nick felt the area’s worst bar would be the best place to sit and talk without anyone knowing or caring who they were. If anyone did recognize them, they were two ex-army military personnel who could handle themselves. Katie hoped that it wouldn’t come down to that.
Pulling into the parking lot, Katie parked in a dark corner so no one would spot her unmarked police vehicle. She untucked her sleeveless blouse, tossed her work jacket in the backseat, and let her hair down. For good measure, she darkened her makeup and doused her lips with burgundy lipstick. It was the best she could do. Ready, she sat in the car listening to the sound of the cooling engine, surprised not to hear music blaring from the bar. No loud voices. No jukebox. No arguing in the parking lot. With her Glock safely locked in the trunk, Katie slipped her backup weapon into her ankle holster. It was a bit uncomfortable, but knowing that she had something to protect herself at all times gave her peace of mind. She grabbed her small purse and exited the car. Glancing around the parking area, she didn’t see Nick. She was almost twenty minutes late, so she assumed he was inside waiting for her.
She pulled the front door open and walked inside, glancing from one side of the room to the other searching for Nick. Most people were huddled over their drinks at the bar. The bartender, an old man with a heavy grey beard, stood behind the bar pouring a double Scotch on the rocks. Several small tables were spread out around the room and an attractive middle-aged woman wearing a T-shirt two sizes too small was going from table to table flirting with patrons.
In the corner, drinking a bottle of beer, sat Nick. She had to squeeze by a couple of tables to get to him and could smell the nauseating mixture of whiskey and cheap aftershave.
“Well?” she said, barely loud enough for others to hear. “Are you going to invite me to sit down?”
He didn’t say anything but gestured to the empty chair, playing it cool.
Katie pulled the chair out and made herself comfortable.
“You want a drink?” he said chewing on a toothpick.
“Do I have to ask?” she said, keeping up the performance.
Nick waved to the waitress and indicated he wanted another two beers. He leaned forward, smiled and gave her a wink. “You look too good to be in a place like this, Scotty.” He spoke in low tones. “I wanted to talk to you away from anywhere someone you know might come in. It couldn’t be at your house or work.”
“No one would ever find me here,” she said.
Nick’s expression changed. It was obvious that something was troubling him.
The waitress delivered their beers.
“Thank you,” he said.
Katie moved her chair closer to his. “What is it? Just tell me, okay.”
“The department is planning to formally arrest your uncle and charge him with first degree murder.”
Katie felt her blood run cold. “I… I don’t understand. What motive do they have? They have to prove mens rea, the defendant’s intent. What? What could they possibly have?”
Nick took both of Katie’s hands across the table. He gently squeezed them. “Apparently it was for money.”
“Money? That’s ridiculous.”
“Your aunt had a significant amount of money in investments, more than three million dollars.”
“That can’t be right,�
� said Katie, reeling from the information. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I heard it from Detective Hamilton and then later it was verified when my brother took over from me and he heard other detectives talking about it.”
Katie was speechless, not knowing what to say or even how to process this information.
Nick let go of her hands. He looked grim, so Katie braced for the worst.
“Your uncle knew about the money,” he said.
“He wouldn’t care about it—he’s not like that and never has been.”
“Maybe so, but there are two witnesses who will testify that they heard your aunt and uncle arguing about money. So that means—”
Katie interrupted him, “So that means that they have motive and opportunity. Not to mention that his fingerprints are all over the murder weapon,” she said, trying to keep her emotions in check.
“I’m sorry, Scotty—I am really sorry. I wanted to be the first to tell you in case someone at work decided to tell you. It doesn’t take a genius to know that he didn’t do it.”
“What are they waiting for? Why don’t they arrest him now?”
“The DA needed to verify the witness statements and your uncle’s attorney wanted to get an independent to lab test the evidence. You’ve got a few more days.”
“In which time they’ll prepare a firing squad—it’s going to blow up in the media. I can’t let this happen,” she said, moving to get up.
“No. You can’t act on emotion here. You’re smart, Scotty. You have time to plan and make your moves—strategically.”
“No. You don’t understand.” Her voice cracked. “He is the only family I have now…”
Her words simmered for a moment before he finally said, “I can’t say that I know how you’re feeling now, but I do know about family. And you brought me back mine. But don’t ever forget, Scotty, you have more family than you think.”
As his words hung in the air Katie kept his gaze and managed a small smile. She knew what he meant; family was more than blood. As lost as she felt at that moment, she knew that her family would give her all the strength she needed to save her uncle.
Thirty-Four
Tuesday 0930 hours
Katie had been in the office for two hours on the phone to both Cynthia Andrews’ mom and her sister. They did more than answer her questions: they wanted to do whatever they could to help, and were more than a little surprised that someone was picking up on the case after all these years. They told her that Cynthia’s death had left a gaping hole in their family that could never be filled. Something that Katie could relate to.
McGaven arrived and gave a warm hello. “You look like you’ve been here all night.”
“Nope, just this morning. I’ve been doing background checks with Andrews’ mom and sister, nothing we didn’t already know, unfortunately.”
“Then why do you sound so chipper?”
“Being pissed off hasn’t helped me or the investigation so far, so I thought I’d change tack.”
“Fill me in,” he said, taking his coat off and hanging it on the back of his chair.
Katie turned her chair to face him and thought long and hard about the night before, realizing that she needed to stay positive and constructive. “I went through all the evidence boxes, pieced together the tent, examined the T-shirt she was wearing and photographs of the scene. The wounds were absolutely horrific, but deliberate. It didn’t look like the killer was out of control or acting on impulse.”
“Okay, so a strategic killer. That slims down the suspect pool a bit.”
“Oh, and I found something interesting,” she said and pointed to the journal entry from the victim’s lab book. “This was the last page of her notebook, dated the day she was killed. As you know, she had only been camping for three days. And the medical examiner had estimated that her body had been tied to the tree under twenty-four hours.”
McGaven examined the photocopied journal entry.
I don’t want to think about the aftereffects of my research once it becomes common knowledge. It would surely fast-track my application and I will be on my way to a teaching position at the university.
“We didn’t initially think that her plant research held any significance, but obviously it does. Whether it’s grant money, a university position, or notoriety.”
“Is it worth killing over?” he said.
“Anything can be worth killing over if you want it badly enough.”
“That’s true.”
Katie got up and scribbled beneath her profile of the killer: jealousy, greed, revenge. “From the statements and my conversations with Andrews’ immediate family, I don’t see that there are any red flags. But… I want to know more about her aunt and uncle who have the outdoor sporting and camping store. That’s worth checking out.”
“Undercover?” he said.
Katie laughed. “I think that might be a good idea.”
“True enough,” he said, reading the board. “So I see that you’ve also included the retired Detective Teagen.”
“If we don’t include everyone who might have some connection besides the obvious, we could miss a clue. I know it’s not the usual thing to put fellow law enforcement officers on the list. It doesn’t necessarily mean that they are killers—it just means that there might be clues pertaining to the case we’re missing.” Katie paced the room as she spoke.
“Detective Scott, how much coffee have you had today?”
“Not enough.”
“What’s next?”
“I have a noon appointment with Andrews’ Ph.D. supervisor, Dr. Celeste Harper. She’s an interesting character. She travels all over the world giving lectures on environmental issues and climate change, and how California is apparently leading the charge with its research.” Katie rolled her eyes in sarcasm.
“You don’t believe in helping the environment?”
“No, that’s not it. Our environment is important, but you still have to look at motivations for everything.”
“That’s it. Only decaf tea for you from now on.”
“Seriously, I think this woman has figured out a way to make a handsome living on just talk. Whether it’s for saving the planet or fear mongering, I take pause when it comes to these types of people—that’s all.”
“Fantastic, well, we’ll know for sure when we meet today,” he said smiling. “They always said you would get to meet interesting people as a cop.”
“I was meaning to ask. Is it possible to take another car?”
“Not the unmarked patrol vehicle?”
“Yeah, normally that’s fine and when I have Cisco, but I think we should blend in.”
McGaven thought about it for a moment, then, contemplating, he said, “I think I can work something out with the guys at impound.”
“That would be great.”
“Speaking of cars… what are you going to do about yours?”
Katie let out a breath. “My Jeep is totaled and I’ve got to get a new one at some point, but when do I ever have time?”
“Let me go to impound and ask around,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Meet you back here in about an hour?”
“Great. I’ll meet you out front,” she said.
McGaven left and Katie searched the Internet for more info on Dr. Harper.
* * *
As Katie rounded the building and crossed the parking lot, she heard voices and saw several news vans parked in a huddle outside the station, and Undersheriff Martinez getting ready for a press conference on the steps. She stopped to watch the media frenzy from afar as Martinez fidgeted with his tie, reveling in the spotlight, before he signaled for quiet and began to speak.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for being here today. Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department has an update we would like to share with the community. Five years ago, one of our residents, Samuel Stiles, went missing on his way home from work. We put our very best men and women on the case, but after month
s of tireless work the case went cold.” He paused for effect. “But we never gave up on the search. We will never give up on anyone in this community. And through the incredible investigative efforts of our detectives, we were able to find Mr. Stiles…”
McGaven appeared at Katie’s side, equally intrigued to hear if their names would be mentioned, expecting them not to be.
“Excuse me,” interrupted a reporter, “our sources tell us the victim’s body was buried on his property. How did you find him?”
“Diligent and relentless detective work. Rolling up our sleeves and following every lead.”
“My source said it was the cold case unit. Was it Detective Katie Scott?”
“It’s a collaborative effort. We offer our sincere condolences to the family. I wish this were under more positive circumstances. I should add that we also found the body of Natalie Cross, Sam’s wife, through the diligent and expert investigative skills of Detective Bryan Hamilton and his team. We have arrested both Dennis Palmer senior and Dennis Palmer junior for one count of first degree homicide, one count manslaughter, kidnapping, illegal gambling, racketeering. Thank you. That’s all for now.”
McGaven said with sarcasm, “A group effort—please!”
“Are you surprised? Sorry to say but you’re now guilty by association to me,” she said.
The news reporters had all started firing questions and demanding answers.
“Please,” Martinez said holding up his hand, “one at a time.”
A young woman from a local network pushed her way to the front. “What about Sheriff Scott? When will he be charged with his wife’s murder?”
“We will update you all when there’s news. For now—no comment,” he said and made his way back inside the office followed by the two lieutenants and two deputies.
Flowers on Her Grave Page 20