One Last Breath

by Sarah Sutton

  When they knocked, he peered through his thick spectacles at the small, square window in the door, and he hurried over. He greeted them by name.

  “I’ll give you the rundown,” he said as he made his way to an autopsy table centered in the room. Upon it lay a body bag shaped in human form.

  He grabbed a set of latex gloves and unzipped the bag. Reese Tanner’s body was quickly on full display. She looked the same as she had that morning. He lifted one of her hands.

  “First of all, she had ligature marks on her ankles and wrists,” he said. This was not new knowledge, since they had already distinguished that at the crime scene. “But it seems to me that given the extent of bruising, she was tied up for quite a while—hours, even.”

  “So you’re saying that she wasn’t killed right away?” Tara asked.

  The medical examiner shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it,” he confirmed. “It’s a bit hard to know for certain, since the body has already started decomposing, but it seems to me that the ligatures had even been changed a couple times.” He pointed to another rope-like pattern on her arm. “This one’s a bit thicker. It looks like the killer used something else to tie her, but it’s a bit less bruised, which means it might be older.”

  “Any sign of struggle from when she was abducted?” Warren asked.

  The medical examiner pursed his lips and shook his head again. “That’s the strange part. I don’t see any sign of blunt trauma. No sign of struggle. My guess is she went willingly.”

  It confirmed what Warren and Tara already assumed, that she knew her abductor.

  “Cause of death was strangulation,” he continued. “Looks like the killer used something thin, like a shoestring.”

  “Any chance someone with one broken arm could’ve strangled her?” Tara asked.

  “I’d say that’s very unlikely,” the medical examiner confirmed. “Her hyoid bone was fractured; it’s a bone in her neck. You’d need a lot of force for that, and unless you’re the Hulk, it’d be next to impossible to do that with one arm.”

  It was the same injury that Dr. Harris noted in Alyssa White’s skeleton.

  “But mainly what I wanted to show you is this.” He held up her hand. It was already starting to decompose, but her nails were still intact. As Tara leaned in, she could see the jagged lines where some of her nails had been broken. “It looks as if toward the end she tried to claw her attacker, but oddly, her fingernails were completely clean. No DNA underneath.”

  Tara and Warren shared a glance. They knew what that meant—that the case was going to be even harder than they expected.

  “This killer knows what he’s doing,” he added. “I couldn’t find any fibers, any DNA, or fingerprints.” He then turned to Tara and Warren. “I’d almost say this killer has done quite a bit of research or knows crime firsthand.”

  “Any sign of sexual assault?” Warren asked.

  Again the medical examiner shook his head. “Doesn’t seem sexually motivated.”

  Tara and Warren thanked him and soon stepped outside the room. They now knew that the killer might have some knowledge of crime and forensic procedures. They had confirmation that the victim most likely knew the killer. Now they knew why no one on the street had heard anything. The victim was most likely taken willingly and then killed later at another location. And now they knew for certain that it wasn’t sexually motivated. All these details made the case suddenly much more complicated, and it gave Tara an uneasy feeling.

  “Maybe we should get a hold of the Whites?” Tara suggested. If Reese knew her attacker, it was likely that Alyssa did too. They would just have to find out someone they had in common.

  “My thoughts as well,” Warren admitted, and they were soon headed to the car.

  ***

  The phone rang on the table in front of them as they anxiously waited for someone to pick up. Tara and Warren sat alone in a room of the police station. It was quiet except for the ringing echoing off the walls and the voices of police officers each time one walked past their door.

  They had been given Alyssa White’s mother’s phone number. The family had moved, they were told, from the shores of New Jersey to a town inland in Connecticut. Tara could only assume that living in the home where their daughter had once lived became unbearable.

  The phone had rung five times already, and hope began to slip from Tara’s mind. They needed Alyssa’s family to answer. If not, then they would officially be at a dead end. But just when Tara was sure it would go to voicemail, a voice was heard.

  “Hello?” It was a woman’s voice, raspy and tired.

  Tara looked at Warren. It did not sound like the voice of someone they would expect. From what they knew about Alyssa’s family so far, they were wealthy socialites. Her father was the owner of a commercial real estate company and her mother was apparently a well-known local fitness instructor. However, this woman didn’t sound like a fitness instructor at all. In fact, she sounded like someone who didn’t take care of herself.

  “Mrs. White?” Tara questioned, just to make sure.

  She coughed into the phone. “Yes?”

  Tara introduced herself, explaining who she and Warren were. “We were just hoping we could ask you a couple questions.”

  The woman remained silent for a moment, as if contemplating if she should, but then she agreed. “I suppose that’s all right,” she said. “But I already spoke to police when they told me they found my Alyssa.” Her voice shook as she said her daughter’s name, and she stopped to steady herself. “It just seems like I’ve been answering questions over and over again for a year, and still that psycho is out there.” Anger swelled in her voice as she spoke louder with each word, and then ended with a coughing fit. “Sorry,” she said when done. “I have bad asthma, and smoking cigarettes doesn’t help.”

  Not only did it not help her asthma, but it sounded a bit suicidal to Tara. However, she also understood it was a reflection of this woman’s pain, and smoking had been a bad habit to cope.

  “Did your daughter ever speak of anyone when she was in Dewey Beach? Maybe a friend she made, or a boy she liked?”

  The woman didn’t hesitate. “No, and I already told the police this many times. There were a couple of girl friends from our hometown whose parents also owned houses there. She’s hung out with them during past summers, but they weren’t there that year. They were all getting ready to go off to college, as was Alyssa, but she loved Dewey Beach, and we promised her we would take her there before she left.” Her voice trailed off at the end as the remembrance of momentary happiness pulled at her wound.

  “You have a son, correct?” Tara asked. She remembered reading it in Alyssa’s case file.

  “Yes?”

  “Did he ever bring anyone around your beach house?”

  The woman let out an exasperated sigh. “No, my son has always been more into video games than people. Now, even more so, as you can imagine.”

  Tara knew what she meant. She had gone through it too. The people whispering in town as she walked by. The children asking questions at school. It was probably another reason why the Whites moved to a different town.

  Tara continued to ask her more questions. If her daughter ever seemed afraid. If she could think of anyone who would want to harm her, but each question was met with a simple no and logical reasoning.

  Tara shifted in her seat and shared a frustrated glance with Warren before throwing her head back in exasperation. She then leaned forward, focusing again on the phone.

  “Was there a place your daughter liked to go to often when she was in Dewey Beach?”

  The mother thought for a moment. “Nowhere in particular. Just the beach, I’d say.” She then grew quiet, but Tara could sense that she was thinking some more. “Oh,” she finally said. “We all used to go kayaking once in a while. She loved it. She actually got a summer job there the year before she went missing, but she never finished out the summer. She said she didn’t like it. I was never quite sure wh
y. I think she just wanted to spend time on the beach instead.”

  “Do you know the name of the place?”

  She thought for a moment. “Ocean Paddle, it was called.”

  Tara asked her where, and she gave an address Tara recognized. It was near the coffee shop Reese worked at. Tara thanked her, and they hung up. She then turned to Warren.

  “Let’s call Reese’s family, see if she has any connection to the shop,” Warren suggested.

  Moments later, Reese Tanner’s mother was now on the call. She sounded tired, but at the mention of the shop, a bit of life sparked in her throat.

  “Yes, I’ve heard of it. Reese worked there in the off-season last year, in the spring, before she got a job at the coffee shop. Why?” Tara could hear the suspicion in her voice, hoping that maybe they were on to something.

  “Did you ever visit her at work? Did anyone ever seem off to you?”

  “That’s actually why she stopped working there,” Mrs. Tanner replied. “The owner…he was always a bit creepy with Reese. He would always compliment her on what she was wearing, saying she looked good in it. He’d ask her if she had a boyfriend. He was older too, like in his thirties. It was just weird and concerning, and so Reese didn’t work there very long.”

  Tara looked at Warren, and she knew she had the same look in her eyes that he did. He didn’t blink, shock and anticipation reflecting in his stare. It was all the information they needed. They now had a lead. Both victims had worked at the same place. They had most likely interacted with the same creepy owner. It was probably why Alyssa wanted to stop working there. Tara quickly thanked Mrs. Tanner. They now knew were to head next. Tara only hoped that their destination held more answers.

  Chapter Eleven

  The kayak shop sat at the edge of a bay. The water lay still and calm. A dock sat at the edge of the parking lot, jutting out atop the water, and boats sat in a rack next to it. It was now the afternoon, which Tara assumed would usually be a busy time for the shop, but today no one was around. The parking lot was empty, and Tara could only assume it was because of the storm. No one in their right mind would go kayaking today, nor would they be allowed to. She just hoped the owner would be there.

  Tara’s heart sank when they reached the door and saw a closed sign hanging in the window. We’ll have to track him down now, she thought, and find where he lives. But just when the thought crossed her mind, she noticed a light on inside, and then she saw movement. Someone was by the counter.

  She knocked, and the movement by the counter stopped. She heard footsteps, and soon a man emerged. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess, his Ocean Paddle shop shirt ripped and tattered, with what looked like a cigarette burn by the pocket. He looked startled as he noticed them behind the glass front door. He opened it.

  “We’re closed,” he mumbled. He reeked of marijuana. Even from a foot away, it trailed up Tara’s nose in full force, but she didn’t care to bring attention to it. She wanted to stay focused on why they came.

  “We know,” Tara replied before explaining who they were. She flashed her badge. “We were hoping you could provide us with some information on Alyssa White and Reese Tanner. They both worked here, correct?

  His eyes shifted between her and Warren, stealthily. “Sure, what do you need to ask me?”

  “Can we come in?”

  He remained quiet a moment as he turned his head slightly, trying to look into the store without them noticing, as if making sure that it was indeed safe. “Sure,” he finally said as he stepped into the shop, followed by Tara and Warren. A bottle of liquor sat on the counter, and he quickly went over to it, tucking it behind the counter where they couldn’t see.

  “We don’t care if you’re drinking. That’s not a crime, you know,” Warren said.

  “I know…I...” he stuttered, as if cautiously choosing his words. “You’re right,” he finally said with an awkward laugh. “I don’t know why I just did that.” He took a seat on the chair behind the counter.

  He was acting very odd, Tara noted. He was either guilty of the murders, or something else entirely, and she wasn’t sure what a bottle of liquor had to do with it.

  “It’s a shame what happened to those girls,” he added with a shake of the head. “I’m not sure how much help I can be, but I’ll try.”

  The whole shop smelled even more of marijuana than him. It was clear what he had been doing, and she could see Warren’s eyes wander around the room, trying to catch sign of anything else.

  “How long did they work here?” Tara asked.

  He leaned hunched over, peering at the ceiling, his lips pursed, thinking. “They both worked here only a couple of months. I think Alyssa was two summers ago.” He nodded as he said it. “Yeah, that’s right. The year before she went missing.”

  “And Reese?” Tara asked.

  “She worked here in the spring, which is our off-season. April and May.” He sighed. “Such a shame. They were such pretty girls.”

  It was an oddly creepy thing for him to say, given that he was nearly twice their age. It also irked Tara that their looks were the first thing he thought of as why their deaths were a shame, as if that reflected their value.

  “We were told they quit because they felt uncomfortable here. Do you have any idea why that would be?”

  He let out an awkward grunt and suddenly stood up, gripping the counter. He hesitated a moment and then responded. “No,” he said. “I mean, like I said, they were pretty girls. Maybe they felt uncomfortable by the attention they got from customers.” He shrugged.

  His incessant mention of pretty girls only drove home why Reese thought he was creepy and why Alyssa probably quit. Tara looked toward Warren. She hadn’t even noticed that he had moved closer to the entrance to a back room, next to the counter. The door wasn’t fully ajar, but Tara could see from where she was standing that it was cracked slightly, with light shining through it into the room they stood in.

  The shop owner’s head shot in his direction. “Hey!” he yelled. “I didn’t give you permission to go back there.” His hands gripped the counter tighter.

  “I haven’t gone back there,” Warren replied, still staring into the room. “Why, should I?”

  The shop owner grew flustered, realizing he had just created suspicion. “I have a dog back there,” he sneered uneasily. “He’s uh…he’s sleeping, but he’s not very friendly.”

  It was clearly a lie, and Tara knew Warren saw it too. He nodded. Warren would need probable cause to enter the room, and there was certainly something back there that the shop owner didn’t want them to see. Tara threw another question at him, helping to buy Warren more time.

  “Where were you Wednesday night?” she asked. It was the night Reese went missing.

  Redness seeped to the surface of his skin. Tara’s questions were making him anxious. “Why?” he asked. “I was here.”

  “Did anyone else see you here?”

  His nails were now digging into the wood. He thought for a moment, as if questioning what he should say. “I was alone,” he finally responded.

  He had no alibi. Reese had probably walked right by this shop on the way to the beach. He was looking increasingly suspicious.

  Suddenly, Warren walked closer to the back room. “Can you tell me why you have chemist’s beakers in a kayak shop?” he asked. The shop owner’s face grew bright red. Warren stuck his nose in the air, trying to catch a scent he had picked up. Tara moved closer, and after focusing on picking up the scent, she soon smelled it too. Under the lingering smell of marijuana, a potent scent stung her nose. It smelled almost like cleaning products, like ammonia. Tara knew of only one drug that could potentially carry that odor: meth.

  Warren walked into the room, while Tara stood by the door frame, keeping her eye on the owner.

  “Looks like someone’s been cooking meth back here,” Warren said loudly.

  The shop owner opened his mouth, but he was at a loss for words to defend himself. His face grew redde
r, and he had now certainly created marks in the wood counter with his nail-digging grip. He stood tense, his eyes shifting between Tara and the front door. He was about to run, she could feel it. But she didn’t even have a second to react before…

  He hurdled over the counter and took off, springing to the front door. Tara and Warren both whipped around as he flung the door open, fumbling for keys in his pocket. But before he even stepped outside, his foot hit the doorframe, and he went tumbling forward.

  It didn’t take long for Tara to be on top of him, cuffing him and leading him to the car. He was clearly high. His reactions were slowed, but Tara didn’t suspect he was on meth. She knew enough about toxicology to know that he would be acting much differently.

  Once he was placed in the car, Warren came out into the parking lot moments later. “Looks like a meth lab. I don’t know if it was all the time, though. It wasn’t a lot. My guess is he does it here when the shop is closed.”

  “Did you find anything else?” Tara asked. A meth lab was not what they were searching for.

  “I went through everything,” he replied. “All the drawers, all the shelving. I didn’t find too much, but I did find these.” He held out three pictures, and Tara took them. They were each pictures of one single girl. One was Reese, one was Alyssa, and the other she had never seen before. They each stood behind the counter, smiling at the camera. “Seems odd he would keep those,” Warren added.

  “Who’s this?” Tara asked as she held up the picture of the third unknown girl.

  Warren shook his head. “I don’t know, but I think we should find out.”

  Tara nodded as they headed to the car. She had her doubts before these images, but now she wondered, could this third girl be next?

  ***

  The shop owner sat in an interrogation room of the police station. They had already learned that his name was Timothy Morris. He had owned the shop for five years, after purchasing it from some guy who wanted to retire.