“Not from us. We never said a word about kin because I hadn’t read Austin’s report from his interview with the Chief yet. I don’t know how she reached that conclusion.”
“She somehow connected the dots. It was important to her for me to believe she didn’t know the driver of the car was kin when Penney left with him.”
“I heard her say, ‘he’s like Bud,’ was she referring to the driver?”
“The doctor had stepped back into the room, and she pointed at him and added, ‘See his hand?’ The doctor must have thought she was talking about him, because he shoved his hands into the pockets of his smock. I asked her again, but she didn’t answer me. The doctor’s a young resident, so I’d have to see pictures Bud Lincoln in his late twenties or early thirties to know if there’s a resemblance.”
“Maybe it was a gesture she was talking about, not his features,” Rikki said. “The car might be easier to find than another Lincoln or another Watkins. We have someone running a program to check ownership records. Sad to say, but it’s easier to hide the birth—and maybe the death—of a child than to drive without registering a car. We haven’t found birth records for a boy named Dustin Watkins or any girl with the last name Watkins.”
“Doctor Kennedy said he didn’t deliver the child or his sister, but he wasn’t the only doctor in the area in the late seventies. The Watkins were recluses so she could have had the children at home on her own, or maybe with the help of a midwife.”
“Who knows? There are so many missing puzzle pieces.” Rikki rubbed her temples.
“When you were trying to help her yesterday, Rikki, you mentioned the Sitter. Rachel responded as though you meant a babysitter rather than a grave sitter as Dustin seemed to use it. What if ‘sitter,’ as in babysitter is correct?” I asked. “Dustin and his sister were so young at the time, maybe the parents had a sitter who cared for the kids while they worked in the fields all day.”
“That makes as much sense as anything else,” Rikki said. “Even though we don’t know her maiden name, Dustin’s mother could have had family who sent someone to help once the children were born. A teenaged boy could have helped in the fields and with other tasks, as well as watching the children.”
“Diane is still digging through records in Children’s Services, but so far, she’s found nothing. When his sister died in 1979, they both would have been too young, but before the fire in 1980, Dustin should have been registered for kindergarten.”
“I’m not surprised. Are you, Lily? If they didn’t register his birth, I’m sure they weren’t worried about the school system coming after them. Not unless a neighbor noticed the children and cared enough to wonder why they never went to school. That wasn’t likely to happen.”
“I get it. The Watkins were an unusual couple, weren’t they?” I asked. Then I smacked my head like Billie had done a couple of times. “Wait a second! Why didn’t you correct me when I said those DNA results meant you were looking for another Watkins? Dustin’s mother wasn’t a Watkins except by marriage! What if she’s the missing link between the Watkins and the Lincolns? Maybe Lincoln was her maiden name before she married.”
“We found the old deed which listed the owner as William Watkins. There was no mention of a wife. Austin ran a bunch of background checks this morning after he spoke to his informant. He did that before he left the prison parking lot, in case he needed to speak with Chief Little Bigmouth again. In his report he says he came up empty on Lincolns anywhere around here.”
“It’s too bad that Rachel’s husband isn’t still alive. One way to see if there are family ties between the Lincolns and the Watkins would be to compare his DNA to Mrs. Watkins’ DNA.” Rikki stood up so fast, her chair fell over.
“He’s dead, but who says there’s no DNA? Bud Lincoln didn’t die that long ago, and Rachel told us he went through lots of tests. Maybe there are still slides or specimens stored somewhere. If she didn’t get rid of all his possessions, there could be DNA on a comb, a jacket or a hat he loved to wear. Even if Rachel’s too weak to talk to me, her sister might help. If she understands that she might be able to help us determine who killed her niece and tried to kill her sister, I’ll bet she’ll do it. If all else fails, we’ll exhume the body.” She bolted out the door and almost knocked Austin over.
“Austin, get in there and kiss that woman. She’s a genius!” Then Rikki wagged her finger at me.
“That doesn’t mean you’re not a pain in the neck. Don’t wait for Dahlia. Austin can drive you home.”
“Thank you!” I didn’t relish another ride in Dahlia’s cruiser. Rikki apparently didn’t notice the somber expression on Austin’s face. I stood up, dragged him into the room, and shut the door.
“You heard your boss. I’d say that was a direct order. Don’t make me file a complaint.” When he didn’t smile, I grew worried. “What is it, Austin?”
“Rachel Lincoln just died.”
“Oh, no. That is so awful. Should I tell Rikki?” I reached for the door handle, and Austin grabbed my hand.
“Dahlia’s out there. She’ll do it.” He held on to my hand.
“How did you get here?”
“When a bulletin was issued to be on the lookout for a black Camaro heading north, I switched on the sirens and hit it, hoping to meet him as I drove south. About twenty minutes later, I spotted the car. I cut across the median and kept after him even when he nearly ran someone off the road while making a quick exit from the highway. A few minutes later, he crossed into oncoming traffic, and purposely sideswiped a minivan. When they spun out in front of me, I had to slam on my brakes to keep from hitting them. By the time I got around them, I’d lost him. I called in my location, hoping someone would spot him again, and then made sure everyone in the van was okay. While I waited for the local police to show up, I called Dahlia and she explained where you were and why.”
“The Sitter’s absolutely crazy, isn’t he?”
“And getting crazier—if that’s possible. Dahlia says there’s black paint on Rachel Lincoln’s bumper from where the Camaro hit her, driving her off the road, and into a ditch. He’s never left that kind of evidence between him and a victim before.”
“According to Rikki, Rachel Lincoln suffered a blow to the back of her head. He must have pulled her from the car, and then bludgeoned her.”
“Yes, that’s also what I meant when I said he’s getting crazier. Everything he did this afternoon was vicious, but he also risked revealing himself; and I almost had him. He sure drives like he’s had police driver training, although, in his hands, it’s a weapon.”
“You don’t need to explain. Dahlia treated me to a sample of police driving on my way here,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
“Thank God, you’re okay,” Austin said as he finally followed orders.
18 A Sacred Place
“Austin, why kill Rachel Lincoln after all these years?” I asked when we were almost home.
“I wondered about that. He must have figured she was falling apart and was about to tell us something that would identify him or move the investigation forward one way or another.”
“Unfortunately, by the time she spoke to me, she didn’t say anything that was very helpful. She said the Camaro was driven by ‘kin,’ but didn’t say who that was. If she’d remained in the hospital, and I’d spoken to her before the accident, I believe she could have given us the name of the driver. I hope her confession brought her some peace. If you’re right about his motive for killing her, how could the Sitter have known what a vulnerable condition Rachel Lincoln was in unless he’s an insider?”
“Jesse said she was already a wreck twenty years ago when Penney disappeared, so plenty of people could have known she was unstable. Today wasn’t her first trip to the ER. In her hysterical state, who knows what she told people at the hospital last night when she learned someone had murdered her daughter? One reason Rikki and Dahlia gave up on restricting your movements is that word has already leaked to the public t
hat Penney Lincoln is dead. Ms. Wainwright’s fate won’t be a secret much longer, either.”
“How awful for Roslyn and her family. Does the media know Penney’s body was found at The Calla Lily Vineyards?”
“Probably. If you’re worried about the paparazzi, they’ll end up like Billie if they try to scale an eight-foot fence topped with barbed wire.”
“Promise?” I snapped. “They’ll have a heyday if they get their hands on me in Slimy Chic. I wonder what it’ll take to get my diva pals to destroy those photographs.”
“Don’t ask me. I don’t know any of them well enough to understand what makes them tick.” Austin paused as if he was stewing about something I’d said. “Even if you’re right and it’s an insider, this became a large complex investigation so quickly that we’re talking about dozens and dozens of people. There must be two or three dozen police officers from several different jurisdictions involved who stepped in to help given all the people in Lydia Wainwright and Penney Lincoln’s lives the police needed to track down and interview. They interviewed some of them more than once. I don’t suppose Jesse mentioned that, given his criminal record, he was questioned again.”
“Oh, no. He’s never going to be able to leave his past behind, is he?” I griped. “He’s not old enough to have killed the child or set the fire at the Watkins’ place.”
“You know Dahlia, she’s got her own way of viewing things. Rikki’s onboard with the idea of a single killer, but Dahlia’s still considering the possibility of a copycat killer. She hasn’t ruled out Dustin Watkins as a suspect, either. When I told Rikki the Chief claims Penney Lincoln called Dustin, Rain Man, she thought that it fit. She’s convinced Dustin is autistic.”
“Diane also mentioned that possibility and was going to dig around in the records about “Special Needs” children provided services. Pointless now that we know his parents didn’t even register his birth.”
“I’m sorry I lost the guy in the Camaro. I had about ten seconds in which I could have rammed him, but I didn’t want to risk hurting more innocent people.”
“You did your best. I wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life feeling that you’d contributed to the injury or death of an innocent bystander.” Then a happy thought occurred to me. “If the dispatcher put out that APB or BOLO or whatever you call it—they had a license plate number for the car, right?”
“Yes, but don’t get too excited. The car’s registered to the LLC that purchased the Watkins’ property. Since the driver of the car is suspected of using the car in the commission of serious crimes, Rikki’s asked for a warrant to access the name of the owner.”
“Arrgh! It’s one step forward and two steps back,” I said as we pulled up to the gate. A huge, beefy man I’d never seen before stepped in front of the car even though the arm was up to admit us. He wore a gun in a shoulder holster. The cavalry had arrived. The black t-shirt and pants he wore were a giveaway.
“Good evening, Ms. Callahan, Deputy,” he added as he spoke through the window Austin rolled down. “Peter March sends his regards. I’m Glen Avery. I’m here with two colleagues to keep watch until our boss can meet with you Tuesday morning. If you want us to escort you somewhere, we’ll do it. Otherwise, we’ll be carrying out surveillance. Not that you’ll notice us if we’re doing our job right.”
“Thank you so much. Has anyone tried to get in here this afternoon?”
“A couple of people who claimed to be reporters, but when I picked up the big guns, they left.” He nodded his head in the direction of a rifle with a scope leaning against a post and another “big gun” on the ground. It made me feel queasy. I’m not a fan of guns, big or small. “A moving van left a few minutes ago. He seemed in a hurry to leave—from what he said, he’s not a fan of the local police.”
“Is there still an officer on the property?” I asked.
“Yes. When my men made the rounds, they spoke to Officer Jim Brady. He said his boss had asked him to escort you to dinner, which is why I didn’t insist that we do it. I guess the police weren’t sure the deputy would get here in time to join you for dinner.”
“Okay, we know Jim Brady and I have no doubt his boss insisted that he accompany us. With Jim and the deputy as escorts, we can probably get to dinner and back safely. It’ll be wonderful to come home and not be worried another intruder is roaming the property. I’m happy to meet you and glad you’re here.” I meant every word. After living for years in a mega-city, I never dreamed I’d be worried about a serial killer while living in a small town.
“No problem.” When he turned away, I noticed another gun protruding from his waistband. As we drove up the road, I tried to spot his comrades, but to no avail.
“I’m back you guys.” I hollered when Austin and I dashed into the house. “Look who I brought with me!” Judy and Billie came running.
“Lily, come meet the secret agents. They already know Austin.” He grabbed my hand, and when we entered the kitchen, two large men in black were drinking coffee and eating cookies. Jim was sitting there too, and he smiled when we came into the room.
“Sorry to hear you’ve had more trouble, ma’am,” one of them said as he introduced himself and his partner. The divas were hovering like honeybees in a flower garden.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. We just spoke to Glen at the entry gate. I guess Jim told you he’s going to be our escort this evening, along with Marshal Jennings.” Jim nodded as I said that.
“Glad to see you, Austin!” They took turns shaking Austin’s hand.
“We heard you made a detour on the way home,” one of them said. As quickly as they’d said their names, I’d lost track of which man was which given how much alike they were. “I’m sorry your quarry got away.”
“I am too. It won’t be long now before he’s caught. He’s become desperate and erratic, and he’s making mistakes. Jim and his colleagues are on alert.”
“Not just us,” Jim added. “The entire county’s searching for him. Authorities in adjacent counties, too. The California Highway Patrol has the Camaro on their watch list. We’ve set up checkpoints and roadblocks in strategic places. He’s boxed in unless he already left the area.” The two men stood up.
“If you don’t need us, we ought to get to work. Thanks for the coffee and cookies,” one of the not-so-secret agents said.
“And those gorgeous smiles too,” the second man said, winking at my posse members. Zelda fanned herself with her hands.
“If you need me, just whistle. You know how to do that, don’t you, Steve? Just put your lips together and blow.”
“To Have or Have Not—love that movie, sweetheart,” Steve said as he took a step toward the backdoor.
“Sweetheart” came out sounding like Humphrey Bogart. Zelda, on the other hand, had not sounded anything like Lauren Bacall. When she’s angry or excited, what’s left of her Puerto Rican accent becomes more pronounced. “You” comes out more like “Chu.” She was obviously enthusiastic about our new helpers.
“I’ll go with you, while Lily gets her friends ready to go out for dinner,” Austin said as he opened the backdoor and led them out onto the deck.
“Be still my beating heart. Sisters, we’ve been hanging out in the wrong part of California, haven’t we?” Zelda asked. Then she cast a flirty grin toward Jim. “Jim’s no slouch in the looks department, either, is he?”
“Stop, or I’ll have to place you under arrest for harassing a tired, old cop.” Jim laughed. “You heard what Austin said, if you want to go out to eat, you’d better get ready.”
“It’s not usually too hard to find a place to eat on a Sunday night, but this is a holiday weekend, and there are lots of us,” Jim said. “I made reservations for seven at Bistro Benini. They have good food, including pizza and spaghetti, that Billie will love. They can squeeze us in on the terrace, which is my favorite spot. I hope it’s okay, Lily.”
“Jim, you’re wonderful. Thank you. I recently had lunch there with other Calla
Lily Winery Board Members and the food was delicious.” Pricy as I recall, but what the heck? Jim’s single and works hard; why not spend his extra cash on fine dining?
“Where’s Mick, Julie?” I asked.
“He was in such a hurry to get here that he didn’t sleep at all last night. I told him to take a nap, and I’d call him when it was time for dinner. I’ve never known Mick to miss a meal, so he’ll hustle over here. Jim’s right that we’d better get moving if we don’t want to be late. In case you hadn’t noticed, Lily, you live in the boonies.”
“True. Call Mick and tell him the dress is casual, and to meet us here in twenty minutes. Does that work for everyone else?”
“Pizza always works for me,” Billie replied.
“Put on your sweatshirt with the hoodie, okay? It’ll be chilly once the sun goes down. Tomorrow morning, I’m taking you shopping for school clothes.”
“Yes, Number One Mom,” Billie said.
“We all have mom numbers,” Julie informed me.
“I don’t have a number since there’s only one granny in the house,” Judy added. Her sweet face crinkled with laughter as Billie hugged her. Getting everyone into as few cars as possible was something of a challenge, but we managed. Billie was absolutely over the moon when Jim offered to let him ride in the front of the police cruiser with him.
“No high-speed, police driving, please,” I begged Jim.
“Aw, that’s no fun,” Billie responded.
“We can’t keep up, and you’re supposed to be our escort, remember?”
“That’s true, isn’t it? With Zelda driving, if we go too fast, she’ll start waving her hands around, and who knows what will happen? We’d better take it easy on them, Jim.”
“Whatever you say, partner. Buckle up!” When we got close to the restaurant, Jim turned on his siren and signaled where to turn in. I’m sure Billie loved it.
A Tangle in the Vines Page 16