“Yes,” Bree said.
Matt turned back to the dresser. He opened the bottom drawer. He cleared his throat. “Bree?”
She turned to face him.
The tone of his voice had caught her attention. “We need to call in a forensics team.”
She crossed the floor. When she reached him, she peered over his shoulder and drew in a sharp breath. Inside a cigar box was a pile of dirty-white objects. Each was about an inch long. She’d seen similar objects at the burial site. “Finger bones.”
Matt nodded.
“I wonder if those belong to the victims we already found. We should have a cadaver dog walk the yard in case someone is buried out back.” Bree stepped aside to call a forensics team and the medical examiner. Then she joined Matt downstairs, where he and Juarez were stringing crime scene tape around the perimeter of the house. Oscar had started a crime scene log.
“Dr. Jones is on her way here to collect the bones,” she said. “The search-and-rescue cadaver dog team just finished the clearing. They found no additional remains. His handler is going to come here on his way back to Albany.”
She rounded up her deputies and issued new instructions. “Every square inch of this house gets videotaped and photographed.” She signaled to Matt.
“Are we going to talk to Shawn?” he asked.
“Yes.”
They went outside. Elias was leaning on a silver four-door Mercedes. He straightened when Bree and Matt walked out of the house.
“We need to talk to Shawn,” Bree said.
Elias searched her face. “What did you find?”
Bree paused. She wanted Shawn off guard when she confronted him with their gruesome discoveries. “I’d prefer to have this discussion with Shawn. It’s his property and his privacy.”
“Fine.” Elias gnashed his teeth. “I’ll phone my lawyer.” He slid behind the wheel of his car and headed down the road.
Even if she couldn’t question Shawn without his attorney, she was still hoping to see his reaction. Bree hurried to her vehicle, Matt keeping pace beside her. They stepped into the SUV. She drove to the large house and parked in the circular driveway behind Elias’s sedan. Elias stood on his front step. Bree hustled to catch up with him. Matt followed her as she strode up the brick path to the front door.
Elias shot them an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Please wait out here.”
Bree stood still, her thumbs hooked over her duty belt, frustrated that she couldn’t demand entry to Elias’s house. Just as impatient, Matt paced the front walk. The house loomed over them, blocking out the light. The combo of brick and black shutters matched Shawn’s small guesthouse, but this place was huge. Bree roughly guessed the floor plan encompassed at least six thousand square feet of living space.
Ten minutes later, Elias appeared at the door.
He looked shaken. “He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Bree asked.
“Yes.” Elias moved backward, holding the door for them. They walked into a huge foyer. A staircase curved up one wall. “I checked every room.”
He led the way back to an enormous white kitchen that opened to a great room with a cathedral ceiling. In the middle of the room, a sectional couch faced a stone fireplace. On either side, french doors opened onto a patio. “He was resting on the couch when I left.”
Matt went to the doors and opened one. “Are these usually unlocked?”
“No,” Elias said. “Since I’d been out, all the doors should have been locked.”
“Do you own any other vehicles?” Matt asked.
“Yes. There’s a Jeep in the garage.” Elias exited through a french door. Bree and Matt followed him across the paver patio, down several steps, and along a walkway that led to a detached four-car garage. Elias punched four numbers into an electronic keypad and opened one of the overhead doors.
The garage was just as organized as the house. One bay held lawn machinery, a snowblower, cans of gasoline, and an ATV on a trailer. Tools hung on pegs over a small workbench. On the back wall, racks stored two mountain bikes, tennis rackets, and a pair of kayaks with oars. A roof rack for transporting kayaks and bikes hung from the ceiling.
But there was no Jeep.
“Let me guess,” Bree said. “He took your vehicle?”
“Yes.” Elias still looked shocked. “He knows where the keys are. He’s borrowed it before. He doesn’t have a vehicle of his own. But he seemed so sick when I left him. He could barely keep his eyes open. His face was black and blue and swollen.”
“I’ll put out a BOLO.” Bree took the Jeep’s information from Elias. “Would you walk around and see if anything else is missing?”
Elias wandered off.
Bree turned to Matt. “Could you call Sharp and move our meeting back an hour or so?”
Matt nodded. “Of course.”
“I’ll call the deputy on guard at the excavation in case Shawn shows up there.” By the time she’d finished her call, Elias was back, his face drawn. He placed a hand on the top of his head. “My shower was wet, and my closet was open. I think he changed clothes.”
“Do you know what he took?” Matt asked.
“A pair of khaki slacks and a blue polo shirt are missing.” Elias smoothed his hair. “I usually keep some cash in my top drawer. That’s also missing.”
“How much?” Bree asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” Elias answered. “Maybe five or six hundred dollars. I can’t believe he left, or that he stole from me. I give him money.”
Bree believed it because Shawn was a manipulative liar. Also, drug addicts would do anything for their fix. “Where would he go? Do you know where he obtained his drugs?”
“No.” Elias gave his scalp a rigorous rub. “I don’t know why he isn’t here. I gave him his house to keep him off the streets, and he still wanders.”
“Shawn doesn’t have a job. Who covers his living expenses?”
“I do.” Elias dropped both hands to his hips. “He usually comes to the house once a week for groceries, and I give him cash when he needs it.”
Which he probably uses to buy drugs, thought Bree.
“Shawn wasn’t always like this,” Elias said. “He became addicted to drugs in college. He tried to fight addiction for the first few years. I sent him to rehab twice, but the drugs changed him. His whole personality changed. He became a different person. He’s erratic and depressed. I’ve been accused of enabling him by covering his bills and giving him a place to live, but I love my brother. He’s the only family I have left. I can’t give up on him.”
“Drugs are hard.” Matt’s best friend had been battling them for years.
Elias nodded. “But I still don’t believe my brother would hurt anyone.”
Bree wasn’t sure at all. Drugs did change people. Was the new Shawn capable of murder?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Matt sat in the passenger seat while Bree drove the SUV. The medical examiner had collected the finger bones. The forensics techs were crawling over Shawn’s house, and Todd was questioning Elias about his brother’s habits. Matt thought it was pretty clear that Elias didn’t know much about his brother.
“Shit. It’s six o’clock already.” Bree called home and let them know she’d be late. She turned down a side street in the business district of Scarlet Falls and parked in front of Sharp Investigations. The office occupied the first floor of an up-and-down duplex. Matt followed Bree up the front walk. Despite beginning to drop in the sky, the sun blasted them like a heat lamp. By the time they reached the front door, Matt’s shirt was stuck to his back.
The office had clearly once been an apartment, and they entered into the former foyer. The air-conditioning was a relief.
A man appeared in a doorway. “Sheriff Taggert. Matt Flynn?”
“Yes,” Bree said.
Matt held out a hand. “That’s us.”
“I’m Sharp.” He was in his mid- to late fifties, with the lean body of a runner. He wore jeans and a
T-shirt emblazoned with a globe and the words THERE IS NO PLANET B.
He led them into his office, and they sat in two guest chairs facing his desk.
“Can I get you some green tea? I just made a fresh pot.” He went behind his desk and raised a mug that read PRIVATE DICK. “We have coffee too.”
Bree and Matt declined.
Sharp eased into his chair. “In June 1990, I was a patrol officer for the SFPD. I took the initial report for a missing persons case. Jane Parson went to a party at her parents’ country club and was never seen again.” He set down the mug. “Jane had a history. From the very beginning, finding her seemed like it was going to be a challenge. The case got referred to a detective, but he let me work the case with him.”
“Did either of you ever suspect foul play?” Bree asked.
“We talked about various scenarios, but our biggest concern at the time was suicide,” Sharp said. “Jane suffered from depression. On June 20, 1985, at the age of twenty-three, she had a baby she named Jennifer. When the baby was about one, she drowned in the bathtub. According to the family, Jane blamed herself. She’d stepped away for a minute to answer the phone.” Silence hung as Sharp drank more of his tea.
“That’s horrible.” Bree’s voice was hoarse with emotion.
Sharp continued. “After the baby’s death, Jane was never the same.”
“I’m sure she wasn’t,” Matt said.
Sharp nodded. “Jane married young because she was pregnant. They divorced shortly after the baby died. Jane’s parents had nothing bad to say about him, just that the marriage had never been strong and it couldn’t withstand the tragedy.”
“So, the ex was never a suspect?” Bree asked.
“No.” Sharp shook his head. “He died in an auto accident in ’88.”
“I’ll officially request the information from the SFPD, but that will take time. I’d love to get a head start on reviewing your reports. Do you have copies of your file?”
“Not everything. It wasn’t officially my case. The detective who handled it died years ago.” Sharp removed a manila file from his bottom drawer and tossed it on the desk. He opened the file, thumbed through a few pages, and produced a photograph. He slid the picture across the desk. “But I have copies of my own reports, and I found this photo of Jane taken a few weeks before she disappeared. Is this the bracelet you found?”
Matt picked up the photo. In it, a woman sat at a table on a patio. The unmistakable green of a golf course fairway filled the background. The woman was in her late twenties, but she looked older. Her hair was shoulder-length platinum blonde. Her skin looked dry and sallow. Tight creases framed her mouth and eyes. “Yes. That’s it.”
Sharp shifted back in his chair, and the springs squeaked. “Jane’s parents had money. She never had to work, and she’d quit college when she married. Her parents tried to get her involved in the family business—they owned car dealerships—but she had no interest. She had no hobbies. She spent most of her time partying. She drank too much. A close friend said Jane also abused pills, and she was known to frequent local bars and hook up with strangers. We canvassed the local nightclubs. Several bartenders recognized her as a regular, and we found footage of her on the surveillance video from about a week before she was last seen. She left with an unidentified man.” Sharp pulled a second image from the file and set it on the desk.
Matt leaned forward to examine the image. It showed Jane and a man walking across a dark parking lot. The glow of a streetlamp shone on her. The man remained in darkness. Matt passed the picture to Bree.
“We never identified him.” Sharp lifted one hand off the desk, then let it drop. “I’m not sure it mattered. Everything pointed to Jane being depressed and in a yearslong downward spiral.”
Bree studied the two photos. “What happened the night she disappeared?”
“Jane was last seen at a charity event along with two hundred other people. She parked her own car, a 1989 BMW convertible. The club had security cameras on the parking lot, the front entrance, and the rear patio. We collected a video of Jane leaving the building, alone. She was stumbling and weaving as if heavily intoxicated. We questioned the valets. They both denied noticing her leave. I called bullshit on that, because she walked right past their stand, but I couldn’t budge them on their statements.”
“Why do you think they lied?” Bree asked.
Sharp shrugged. “Their statements were oddly similar. I got the feeling they’d been coached, possibly by the club management. We also interviewed waitstaff. A few remembered seeing Jane at the event. None would admit she was hammered.”
Matt said, “So the country club didn’t want to admit any liability for serving her too much alcohol and allowing her to leave intoxicated.”
“That was my take,” Sharp agreed. “The video of Jane leaving that event is the last time anyone saw her—or admitted to seeing her.” He swept a hand over his salt-and-pepper buzz cut. “The event was on a Saturday night. The anniversary of the baby’s death was the following Monday. Jane lived in a guest cottage behind her parents’ house. Her mother noticed her car wasn’t there the next morning, which was Sunday. But since Jane had a habit of hooking up with strangers, her mom didn’t get upset until Jane was still missing on Monday morning. She’d never stayed out that long before. Given the date, the mother called us. She was very worried about suicide.”
“Understandable,” Matt said.
“Yes. We issued BOLOs, knocked on doors, dragged a pond at the back of the family’s property. There was no activity on her bank accounts or credit cards. Her phone was never used again. Her parents put up fliers.”
“What about her car?”
“We never found it,” Sharp said. “We worked the case for about a month before the chief pulled us off it. If her parents hadn’t been rich, we probably would have only been allowed a week or so. There was no sign of foul play. My partner thought she drove off a bridge or something like that.”
“It’s plausible. What did you think?” Matt asked.
Sharp gave him a slow headshake. “She was self-destructive. If she went off a bridge, I thought it would have been intentional.” He breathed. “My chief said she could have just driven away to start over. I didn’t buy it, but there was no evidence to disagree. It’s not a crime for an adult to just up and leave. But her suitcases and toiletry kit were still in her closet, and her mother said it didn’t appear Jane had taken any clothing.”
Bree asked, “But you didn’t believe that’s what happened?”
“No.” Sharp sighed. “When I had free time, I’d make calls. Every time remains turned up in the state, I checked. Now, it seems she might have finally turned up.”
“Do you know if her parents are still alive?” Bree asked.
“Her father died of a heart attack a couple of years ago.” Sharp checked his file. “But her mother is still alive.”
“Poor woman,” Matt said.
“Gloria is OK.” Sharp’s smile was bittersweet. “Jane had a younger brother, Bradley. He’s married with kids and grandkids. They live on the estate, and Gloria is really close to them. So, she still has family around her.”
“Is?” Bree sounded surprised. “You still talk to her?”
Sharp nodded. “We keep in touch, though I haven’t talked to her in a while.”
“Does she think her daughter is still alive?” Matt asked.
Sharp considered the question with a tilt of his head. “No. Gloria has her feet on the ground. The news will be hard, but it won’t be a shock to learn Jane is dead. She’ll finally have closure. How did Jane die?”
“She was shot in the head,” Bree said.
“No.” Sharp came forward. His hands curled around the edge of his desk. “That will be a shock to Gloria.” His gray eyes tightened. “Could the shot have been self-inflicted?”
Matt visualized the skull. “The medical examiner thinks she was lying on the ground when she was shot.”
Sharp inhaled.
“OK, then. Definitely murder.”
“Plus,” Matt added, “she didn’t bury herself.”
Sharp exhaled hard. “She was buried?”
Bree nodded. “Her remains were found with the bones of a male, who also died of a gunshot to the head. Did Jane have a companion? Anyone in her life who also disappeared?”
“Not that I know of,” Sharp said. “According to people who knew her, Jane preferred one-night stands. She never hooked up with the same man twice. She once told her friend she didn’t want any emotional entanglements.”
Bree nodded. “I’ll give the ME Jane’s name. Are her dental records on file?”
“Yes,” Sharp said. “Jane was in a car accident in ’87, a DUI. She broke her jaw and had some dental surgery. Her X-rays are unique.”
“Then the ME should be able to make a quick comparison,” Bree said. “I’ll call you as soon as I know.”
“OK,” Sharp said. “Gloria’s son will want to be home when you notify her. She’s had some heart issues in the past few years.”
“All right.” Bree stood. “Thanks for your time. Can we take these photos with us?”
Sharp gestured toward it. “Please. Take the reports too. The main file should be in the SFPD archives. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. I’d like to see the case closed.”
Matt and Bree returned to the SUV. Inside, the vehicle was stifling. Matt slid into the passenger seat, where the hot vinyl burned his back. “Now that we have a name, we can get a dental X-ray comparison.”
“Yes.” But Bree seemed distracted.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Aren’t you excited to have our first real lead?”
She started the engine. Hot air blasted from the vents. “Yes. Of course I am.” But instead of driving, she put both hands on the wheel and stared out the windshield, her face troubled.
With a glance back at the house, Matt reached over and grabbed her hand. “What is it?”
She shook her head, her lips pressed into a flat, bloodless line.
Right Behind Her (Bree Taggert) Page 10