One Last Breath

by Sarah Sutton

  Warren shrugged. “I don’t know,” he sighed, trying to make light of it. “You just seem kind of tired lately and in deep thought.” He looked over at her again, but Tara’s eyes stayed focused in front of her, and he turned away. “You don’t have to tell me. I just want to make sure everything’s okay, that’s all.”

  Tara remained quiet. Part of her wanted to tell him what she had been going through. After all, Warren had opened up to her about his wife and daughter, and he already knew about her mother’s murder at the hands of her father. Why was this so different?

  She hadn’t told anyone except John what she had been going through, and it felt odd opening up to someone else. She had no idea how he would react. If she would look crazy, digging into a past that was already put to rest. But at the same time, she almost craved Warren’s opinion.

  She took a deep breath. “I visited my father,” she finally said.

  Warren raised his eyebrows, his gaze still ahead of him. “Woah. And how was that?”

  “It was…” She paused for a moment. “Interesting. But I think I needed it.”

  Warren nodded understandingly, but Tara’s heart still pounded. She wanted to tell him the rest. It felt as if it were about to burst out of her. “There’s just some answers I need from him,” she added. It was unprompted, and Warren seemed a bit surprised by the sudden openness. But Tara didn’t focus on it. She wanted to finish getting out what she held inside her. “I think I’ve realized why I had those ‘moments.’” Warren looked over at her, his eyes darting between her and the road. “I’m starting to think that someone else might be involved in my mother’s death. It’s a lot to get into, though.”

  Warren was quiet. His eyebrows knitted as he tried to make sense of what Tara was telling him. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she responded without hesitation.

  Warren nodded again. It was all he needed to hear. “Do you know who it might be?”

  “I think so. I’m determined to find out once this case is over.”

  Again, he nodded, his eyes moving between Tara and the road. “Good for you, Mills,” he finally said. “That takes a lot of guts.”

  Tara smiled. She wasn’t sure how Warren would react, but it was exactly how she hoped. He didn’t even need to know the details. He trusted her judgment. He didn’t think she was crazy, acting out from some psychological issue.

  As he turned onto another road, he shook his head in amusement as he let out a slight chuckle. It was strange, after telling him something so personal and dark. Tara couldn’t understand where it was coming from.

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head again. “Nothing, you’re just impressive, that’s all.”

  Tara felt a tinge of pride, but she wasn’t sure why Warren was complimenting her. In fact, she didn’t feel impressive at all. She felt like her psychological baggage was everything that kept her from being impressive.

  “Impressive? Why would you say that?”

  Warren took a deep breath. “Do you ever wonder why I always want to drive? Why I always insist?”

  Tara had never really thought that in-depth about it. She had always found it a bit irritating, but she just assumed it was Warren’s strange way of exerting superiority. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Something to do with your ego?” She looked at him and smiled. He laughed.

  “Very funny,” he replied, still smiling, but then it faded and he sighed. “Ever since my wife and daughter passed away, I can’t stand sitting in the passenger’s seat. And you know what a therapist told me once?” He looked at Tara and back at the road, but he wasn’t seeking an answer. “That it’s my way of trying to gain control, since I lost them in a car accident.” A silence fell around them. She had no idea that Warren’s incessant need to drive was deep-rooted in something psychological. It made perfect sense, and she suddenly felt sorry for him. But as she watched him staring intently at the road, she wondered why he was telling her all of this.

  “My point being,” he continued, “is I stopped seeing the therapist after that. I’d rather be stuck in this psychological war with the road instead of fully letting go. But you…” He looked over at Tara once more with a proud smile. “You get to the root of the problem. You don’t let fear hold you back. It takes guts to realize things about yourself and to dig into something that deeply troubles you.”

  Tara had never thought of it that way, being brave. To her it just seemed like a necessity to dig into her past. Not only was it making her life unbearable with nightmares and panic attacks, but she knew it would be a disservice to her mother. She would want Tara to seek freedom from it all, to live her life to the fullest. But she also knew her mother deserved justice, and that was Tara’s biggest driving force.

  Warren was now pulling into the parking lot of the camera store. It sat in a shopping center amongst a row of other stores.

  “I wouldn’t call it brave,” Tara finally admitted. “It’s a necessity for myself and to honor my mother. She’d want me to be happy, and she’d want me to know the truth.”

  Warren had just put the car in park, but his hands still held the steering wheel as he looked out into the parking lot. There was a sadness in his eyes, and Tara suddenly felt bad, but she wasn’t sure why. It was as if she had said something she shouldn’t have.

  He sensed Tara’s eyes on him, and he slid his hands from the wheel, still staring in front of him. “Good for you, Mills,” he replied with a nod. His words were sincere, more than they had ever felt. But then he switched gears. “Let’s go see about this memory card,” he added as he finally stepped out of the car. Tara did the same. She knew her words had hit Warren hard for some reason, but she wasn’t going to ask. This case needed them now, and so Tara switched her focus as well.

  They walked across the parking lot, which was mostly empty. A woman in the store next to the camera shop flipped a sign on the door, making it known they were open. She studied them as they walked past. It was still early, and many of the stores were just opening up. Tara held the evidence bag containing the memory card tightly. They were now so close to finding out what was on it, and it sat like a heavy weight in her hand.

  Tara opened the door, and they stepped into an air-conditioned room with display cameras and other gear lining the walls. There were no customers yet, but a man at the counter looked up as they entered. He was tall and lanky, with gray hair on the sides of his head. He peered over his reading glasses, which sat on the tip of his nose.

  “Can I help you?” He was unscrewing something on a camera. He placed a small screwdriver down as Tara and Warren approached the counter. He stared skeptically at them until Tara flashed her badge and he cocked his head back in surprise.

  “We have a memory card, and we need the adapter for it,” Tara said as she slid the evidence bag across the counter.

  The man looked down at it. He reached forward, about to pick it up, but stopped himself. “May I?”

  Tara nodded, and he scooped up the bag. He turned it in different directions, reading the writing on it before placing it back down. “A C-Fast card reader should work.” He walked around the counter to one of the walls. He scanned the wall briefly before retrieving what he was looking for. He placed it down on the counter in front of Tara and Warren. “This should do the trick.”

  Tara thanked him, but she knew they weren’t done yet. They didn’t have time to drive back to the station. They needed to know what was on that memory card now. She looked at Warren and knew he had the same thought as well. She turned back to the owner. “Could we take a look at this on your computer?” She waved the memory card in her hand as she spoke.

  The man sighed. “What are you looking for anyway?” he asked skeptically. “Is this about those missing girls?”

  Tara nodded. She didn’t even need to plead with him anymore. That was all the confirmation he needed. He shook his head. She could see it troubled him. “If it’ll help keep that sicko off the streets, by all means, use my c
omputer.” His eyes moved to the entrance of the store before he pursed his lips and turned on his heels. “It’s best if you use the one in the back, in case any customers come in.” He waved his hand for them to follow him as he walked to the end of the counter and pulled open a door with an Employees Only plaque on it. Tara grabbed the adapter off the counter, and she and Warren quickly followed him.

  He led them into a small office that contained a computer, a filing cabinet, and loads of camera gear. Tara and Warren stood around him as he powered the computer on and explained how to use the adapter. “I’ll leave the rest to you guys,” he said before stepping out of the room.

  They waited until he was good distance away. They needed to make sure that the evidence was completely sealed, that he had no chance of walking in. And when he finally was gone, they turned back to the computer. Tara felt her palms begin to sweat as she pulled the memory card out of the evidence bag and placed it carefully into the adapter.

  She and Warren waited anxiously for the memory card to pop up on the screen. Tara was unable to blink until an icon appeared on the desktop. They both leaned in closer. When Tara clicked on the icon with the mouse, a window popped up, and within it, photo files appeared. Tara heaved a deep sigh as she looked at Warren. Part of her was excited at the possibility that they had found evidence, but another part was fearful. She could see the same pull of emotions dance in Warren’s eyes that were steadily glued to the screen.

  She let the mouse hover over one of the images as she prepared herself for whatever she was about to see. She knew she was possibly about to see pictures of the victims, in what way she did not know, but she prepared for every possibility. She steadied herself and let her finger click on an image. As it opened, she heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn’t a victim. In fact, it was nothing like she expected. Staring back at her was the image of a house, fully ablaze. Flames burned wildly through the roof, tearing it into pieces. Windows were blown out. It looked like a horrific fire, but Tara had no clue what it could mean.

  She looked at the next image. It was the same fire, but this time firefighters were there. One of them was helping an elderly woman across the lawn. Others stood in formation, holding a hose, about to extinguish the flames.

  Tara was now even more unsure if the memory card had been left on purpose or strategically. The images didn’t make sense; they were completely unrelated. But part of her wondered if that was the exact reason why the killer would’ve left them behind. After all, the card had no prints on it.

  Warren caught Tara’s perplexed expression “Maybe the killer is trying to throw us off,” he suggested.

  It was her exact thought as well. “It does seem odd that it had no prints. If it fell out of his pocket or he dropped it, it’s unlikely it wouldn’t have some sort of forensic evidence on it.”

  But she still wasn’t convinced the pictures were all for nothing. There had to be clues. She looked at two more pictures, each another development of the fire. One was a wide shot of the police activity, the fire almost extinguished. The other was a close-up of the damaged home.

  Tara studied both pictures as frustration boiled. They needed something, anything that would give them a lead. They could find where the fire was, have someone help them identify who took the photos. But like Warren said, what if it was all just a means to throw them off track? What if it just wasted precious time? What if these were someone else’s photos that were planted at the scene to steer Tara and Warren off course?

  She exhaled deeply as she clicked the last image. She waited a moment for it open, expecting to see just another image of the fire. But when it opened, her eyes opened wide. What she had feared all along rose up inside her like a sudden sickness. Warren gasped. Tara looked away instinctively for just a moment as she let the shock subside into a controlled reality.

  When she looked back at the screen, she was met by Sofia’s terrified eyes. They were bloodshot and wet with tears, and she stared pleadingly at the camera. A chill ran up Tara’s spine.

  She was lying on what looked like a concrete surface of an unfinished basement or something similar. The picture was taken from above, giving a full aerial view of her on the floor. Her feet were bound with rope, her mouth was duct-taped, and her hands were hidden behind her back; Tara assumed they were also tied.

  She turned to Warren, but for a moment he didn’t even sense the turn of her head. His eyes remained on the screen, his jaw clenched tight, making it look more defined than it already was. But then he took a deep breath, releasing the tension, and turned to meet Tara’s eyes.

  “We could find out where that fire was,” Warren suggested. “But it could be a long shot.” They both knew it would be difficult. The images did not reveal which police department was at the fire. Their vehicles were not included in any of the shots, and neither were the firefighters.

  But Tara had another idea. “You think there’s a way to identify the type of camera used from the memory card?” If so, they could maybe narrow down where it could’ve been bought in the area.

  Warren shrugged. “Could be possible. Only one way to find out. Let’s ask the owner.” If anyone could tell them if there was a way to trace the memory card back to a specific camera, it was the store owner. Warren was about to say one more thing, but Tara already knew. She turned to the computer and exited from Sofia’s image. Without another word, Warren left the room, only to return moments later with the shop owner.

  “What can I help with?” he asked as he stepped into the room behind Warren. He knitted his eyebrows and twisted his mouth in concern. Tara could tell he truly wanted to help, and she was thankful for it. It certainly made their job easier.

  “This memory card,” Tara started as she pointed to the adapter by the computer. “Is there any way to trace what camera it was used on?”

  The man bobbed his head back and forth, weighing the question. “To a degree. You can certainly tell the brand and if it’s a high-end camera or not. Like I can tell you already that that memory card is for a Canon. That adaptor I gave you is only used for Canon C-Fast memory cards.”

  Tara nodded. “Any way to tell what type of Canon?”

  The shop owner sighed and shook his head, sending a wave of disappointment through the room. “You can certainly narrow it down. Only certain Canons will use that type of memory card, but you can’t narrow it down to one specific camera, or even a couple.” Tara contemplated their options. Without being able to pinpoint the exact type of camera used, it opened the door for more obstacles, but it was still certainly possible to track local sales; it would just take more time than she was willing to give. Tara sighed, and the shop owner, sensing her disappointment, perked up, as if to reignite the flame of hope he had extinguished. “I can tell you that the memory card you have is only used for high-end Canons.”

  “Who would need such high-end camera?” Warren asked.

  The shop owner pursed his lips. “A professional, or a really serious hobbyist. Those cameras can run a few thousand dollars.”

  Tara shared a look with Warren. They both knew it was a bit of information that could potentially help them. The pictures were taken at a potentially newsworthy story. Could it have been a professional there on assignment? She knew if that were the case, they would probably come into local shops like this often.

  “Do you sell those types of cameras here?” Tara asked.

  “No, I only sell the adaptors. I mostly sell Sony cameras.” Tara’s heart sank. Even though his information so far was useful, she was still hoping to leave with a lead. He tilted his head to the ceiling, giving Tara the hope of another thought brewing. And then he looked back and forth between Tara and Warren excitedly. “I do know a store that does,” he said as he turned toward the computer, abruptly opening a drawer at his desk and grabbing a piece of a notepad. He scribbled something down, ripped off the page, and handed it to Tara. “It’s only a couple towns over,” he added.

  Tara took the paper. It was a start, and she th
anked him. But then she turned to the computer. She needed an easier way to show the images of the fire if needed without having to insert the memory card.

  She pointed at the computer. “Do you mind if I send these images to my email?”

  The shop owner shook his head. “Go right ahead.”

  Tara hovered over the computer as she opened her email and uploaded only the fire images as an attachment. She then quickly ejected the memory card and grabbed the adaptor. They were getting closer to answers. She could feel it in her every bone of her body. She thanked the shop owner again. When she turned around to face Warren, she could see in his wide eyes that he sensed it too. Without a word, he turned to the door. Tara quickly followed.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Tara looked up from her phone as the car slowed, turning into a parking lot. Carter Imaging was spelled out upon the large awning, hanging over the even larger glass doors. The building was about three times the size of the store they had just come from. It had two stories and was the only building in the parking lot.

  The store was about fifteen minutes outside of Dewey Beach. On the way there, Tara had learned from browsing on her phone that it was one of many in a chain, selling all the photography and videography equipment one could ever need, and it seemed like a go-to for any professional. She had already told this to Warren.

  “How far is the next closest one?” Warren asked as he parked.

  Tara looked down at the search results on her phone “About twenty miles.” Her words only confirmed that if the killer was a professional or even a serious hobbyist, it was likely he had stepped foot within this store. Again, Tara felt a slow rise in adrenaline at the possibility of answers moments away. Warren swiftly opened the car door. Her words were affirmation to him as well.

  Inside, it was vast, with numerous rows and sections. Tara couldn’t even see an end in sight as she looked ahead of her. It was still early, but customers were scattered about, surveying gear and cameras and disappearing amongst the rows. She watched as one customer walked past her to a long counter. It was to the right of her, taking up the majority of the front end of the store. She looked at Warren and bobbed her head in its direction and then led the way.