Skye turned around just as Josh provided cover. His movement hid the fact that she could take several more pictures from that angle, focusing on the one tree. After snapping several photos, she jumped into the van. “I didn’t see anything weird. But you did, right?”
“Not sure what I saw, but Reggie should be able to figure it out if he blows up those images. Time to go get our little girl.”
On the drive back to Seattle, Skye fidgeted in her seat, reluctant to bring up the subject. “While you were kissing up to Lakin, I made an appointment for us to sit down with the child psychologist, aka, the shaman, Joanie Raintree. She agreed to see us on Tuesday after she spends a couple of hours on Monday talking to Sierra.”
“I hope we’re doing the right thing.”
“What choice do we have? I don’t want Kiya consuming Sierra’s waking hours by showing up with spirits, dead or otherwise. When’s the last time either one of us saw Kiya? I haven’t actually seen the wolf for weeks now.”
“Me either. That means Kiya is likely focusing all her attention on Sierra.”
“Exactly. Spirit guides might be part of our culture, but it doesn’t mean they should take over a little girl’s life like that.”
“How much do you know about this shaman, this Raintree woman?”
Skye cracked a grin as the van merged with traffic onto the I-5 and headed north. “Joanie comes highly recommended by the tribal council. We worked a case together right after I became a member.”
“The one about the missing boy, right?”
“That’s the one.” When the first drops of rain began to hit the windshield, Skye scrunched up her face. “Look at the traffic.”
“Don’t change the subject. We were talking about this Raintree woman.”
“Look, if I didn’t trust her to handle this, I wouldn’t let her anywhere near Sierra. But the truth is, Joanie works with spirit guides all the time. I’m hoping she’ll be able to explain why Kiya has completely abandoned us and started bugging a three-year-old?”
****
For twenty-three-year-old, Jennifer Mack rushing from Westlake Station to her apartment building near Sixth and Pine in a downpour was no big deal. A third-year law student from Miles City, Montana, the pretty brunette had lived in Seattle for almost seven years. Which meant she was used to the rainy weather and the storms that went with it. She’d earned her bachelor’s degree at UDub and gone on to its prestigious law school. She’d always stayed at the top of her class, making good grades and earning a spot on the dean’s list.
But for almost a month now, Jennifer had been struggling. She hadn’t been sleeping well, tossing and turning every night over a recurring dream that kept coming back night after night. It would wake her up and then she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until the wee hours of the morning. The insomnia was beginning to take its toll. Groggy from lack of sleep, she would invariably shut off the alarm when it came time to get up and snuggle deeper under the covers. She’d missed so many classes that she’d fallen way behind her other classmates. If things didn’t turn around soon, she’d have to seek professional help.
A week ago, Jennifer had caved and discussed the whole thing with a guidance counselor on campus, sharing details about her disturbing nightmares, nightmares that involved the same faceless man who kept trying to kill her.
That first time she was horrified to see him standing at the foot of her bed holding a flashlight aimed straight in her eyes. He’d slowly walk to the head of the bed carrying a rope. He’d wrap it around her throat and squeeze the life out of her. In the morning, she would remember struggling for air.
The next night, he might jump out of her closet and stab her with a knife. It went from that to seeing him slip a plastic bag over her head, waiting and watching until she took her last breath. The next dream would be even scarier as she fought for her life while he stuffed a rag down her throat.
Last night, she’d seen him stand over her, wrap his fingers around her throat and smile as she slipped into unconsciousness. The dream had seemed so real she’d even felt the breath leave her body.
Tonight, she was determined to get some sleep. Her friend Kaitlyn had given her an Ambien to try, a ten-milligram little pill guaranteed to put her out of her misery until morning. Kaitlyn had also promised it would induce a deep enough sleep that the nightmares wouldn’t get a chance to take hold.
Unlocking the door to her apartment on the fourth floor, Jennifer hoped that was true because she planned to crawl in bed as soon as possible.
Standing in her little entryway, she got rid of her raincoat, vigorously shaking it out before placing it on the peg above the small bench she kept there for that purpose. She slid off her backpack and sat down to take off her boots.
The floor had gotten slick from all the drips, so she took out a towel from underneath the bench and mopped up the mess. She then took it back into the bathroom to wring it out and hang it up to dry. While she was in there, she noticed right away that some things, like her makeup and hairbrush, were not where she’d left them that morning.
“Maybe I’m going crazy,” Jennifer said aloud, running her hands over her face. “Insomnia is driving me to the brink of insanity.”
When her stomach growled, she realized that in trying to catch up she’d missed lunch and hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She went back to the foyer and grabbed her criminal law textbook. “You’d think reading a couple of boring chapters on the constitution would put me right to sleep while I eat,” she remarked to no one.
“I should get a dog…,” Jennifer muttered wearily as she made her way into the kitchen to heat up a can of tomato soup. “…then I wouldn’t be talking to myself all the time.”
But looking into the pantry, she noticed the cupboard was beginning to look mighty bare. When had all her food disappeared? All she had on hand was a couple of cans of tuna, a box of crackers, and a can of chicken noodle soup. Which meant she would need to make a trip to the market and soon. She also needed to phone her mom back home. Putting in the obligatory call to her mother was always a sign she’d survived another month in the “big bad city,” a reminder to everyone back in Montana that she could take care of herself. Before the bad dreams had taken over her life, Jennifer Mack had felt like a warrior woman, times ten.
She told herself she had to hold on until May when she got her law degree. After that, she planned to help anyone back home who needed her services. But right then May seemed a long way off.
When the soup came to a boil, Jennifer let it simmer while she got down a bowl, frowning into the cabinet when she saw that the dishes had been moved away from their favored spot above the silverware drawer.
“Sleep deprivation is making me do things I don’t remember doing,” she muttered as she brought the bowl over to the table.
While she ate, she read two chapters, one on Elements of Crime, the other on Criminal Defenses. She was so tired by then that she could barely keep her eyes glued to the words. She slammed the book shut when she realized she wasn’t retaining anything she’d been reading.
She quickly tidied up the kitchen and then headed into the bedroom where she took off her clothes and put on a pair of thick pajamas.
As the rain batted against the window pane outside, Jennifer tossed back the Ambien and drank down half a glass of water. The sound of the rain eased her mind as she snuggled under the covers, waiting for the pill to kick in.
It wasn’t long before Jennifer nodded off into a blissful state of slumber, never noticing the dark shadow that fell across her bed.
Seven
After slamming the state for almost two days, the slow-moving storm had pummeled its way across the Idaho panhandle, leaving in its wake a warming trend, unusual for the month of October. The high was forecasted to reach almost eighty, a good twenty degrees above normal.
With the sun already blazing down on them, Seattle city workers Cal Herndon and Morty Sullivan were hard at work on the beachside of Lincoln Park tr
imming tree branches away from a line of utility poles.
Making their way toward Cove Park to the south, the two men took turns going up in the boom lift to work the tree saw. They trudged over sandy soil, bending down to occasionally inspect a piece of driftwood or look for a pretty seashell or two they could take home to their daughters. Both married daddies had two little girls apiece that often consumed their conversations while they worked.
But today, they mostly had their minds on lunch.
“I brought two hefty sandwiches made from Suzie’s leftover pot roast,” Cal boasted. “Nobody cooks a better side of beef than my Suzie. What’d you bring?”
Morty shook his head. “Nobody’s as good as Katie. She made her famous spare ribs this weekend, packed me two of the thickest sandwiches from the leftovers.”
When it was Morty’s turn to work the pruner, he jumped down to the ground, his face dripping wet with sweat. Morty stopped long enough to mop his brow. Breathing heavy from the exertion, Morty looked over at Cal and sniffed the air.
“You smell that? There’s gotta be something dead around here.”
“Nah, you probably cut one,” Cal returned before mounting the steps on the lift. “Don’t try to blame it on me, either.”
“No, really. Don’t you smell that?”
As the lift truck brought him higher in the air, Cal stuck his nose up, catching the drift of something decomposing. The stench caused his face to twist in disgust. “Whoa, that is foul. Where is that coming from?”
“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out,” Morty said as he began to walk closer to the water.
“There’s nothing here, man,” Cal complained, looking around from twenty feet in the air.
But Morty had trekked further out onto the beach. He almost lost his breakfast as he stared at the half body, decaying in the heat of the sun. “Holy crap. It’s a body, a female I think.”
Cal dropped the lift to the ground and stepped out. He came running over through the sand. “Oh, that smell is awful. How can you tell what it is? Maybe it’s part of a whale.”
“I don’t think so,” Morty said, fumbling with his cell phone trying to dial 911. “Take a closer look. It has breasts.”
For the next several hours, neither man talked about eating the food they’d brought for lunch.
****
Harry Drummond wasted no time getting to The Artemis Foundation to update Skye with the latest news.
Judy Howe looked up from her computer. “Hey, Detective Drummond, how’s it going?”
Despite his retirement Judy always referred to him as “detective” no matter how many times he asked her to call him Harry. “I’m fine, Judy. How’ve you been? Getting ready for Halloween?” He asked because he knew it was Judy’s favorite time of year.
“You know I am. Reggie and I already bought these cool steampunk outfits. You’re coming to my party, right?”
“I don’t know, Judy.”
“Come on, Detective Drummond. You’d have a great time, I promise. You wouldn’t even have to dress up. You could wear your regular clothes.”
“You’ll have to do better than that. You’ll have to promise Harry you’ll serve great food,” Skye said from the kitchen doorway. “Specifically, a plateful of brisket.”
“You know me too well,” Harry fired back. “What are you doing?”
“I’m putting up soft drinks. I just got back from making my monthly Costco run while Sierra’s at daycare.” She shook her head. “Who would’ve thought I’d be stocking up on stuff from Costco? Want a Diet Coke?”
“Make it the real thing, and it’s a deal. Did you hear about that body found near Lincoln Park this morning?”
“I’d planned on calling you about that.”
“It’s not Stacey. My contacts in homicide are certain of it. The description doesn’t match up. But they can already tell the woman’s death wasn’t from drowning.”
“When nothing but a torso shows up, that’s kind of a given.”
“True. But there was no water found in the lungs. And with the head and limbs gone, it’ll mean no ID for a while.”
Skye held up her coffee mug in salute. “Nice work, retired guy. Any signs of homicide on just the torso? Any identifying marks we could put into the database? Like tattoos?”
“No identifying marks that I know about. Superficial stab wounds but none were lethal.” Harry popped the top on his Coke.
“Sorry I don’t have any donuts to offer you.”
“Very funny. Coke will do fine.”
“Are you okay, Harry? I mean really. Talk to me.”
Harry dropped his lanky frame into one of the kitchen chairs. “It’s been tough without Elizabeth. And this thing with Dewayne and Kay…it’s getting more frenzied now that Clayton has disappeared. If I’m unable to convince Josh that Clayton wasn’t involved in Stacey’s case, then what chance do I have with that asshole Lakin who keeps insisting Clayton is his guy?”
“Lakin might be an asshole, something we can all agree on, but how can you be so certain Clayton didn’t do anything to Stacey?”
“I’ve known the boy his entire life. He’s a little shit sometimes, but he’s no killer.”
“Do any of us ever really know someone that much? Truthfully?”
“I just know.”
Skye crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not good enough. I saw Clayton with my own eyes reading the Collins / Mathison file in this very office. He saw where Dave’s Jeep had been left and decided to abandon his Audi there and hit the road.”
“That’s ridiculous, and you know it. Why didn’t Clay just leave it at the airport in long-term parking? Why go two hours out of his way to ditch his own car?”
“Okay, then how do we know for certain Stacey’s dead exactly?”
“Probability,” Harry grumbled. “We’ve seen this kind of thing a thousand times before. Her personal items are still there in the house. Even if her car’s gone, she didn’t leave without a suitcase and her purse. No woman goes on a trip and leaves her makeup right there on the bathroom vanity. You saw the crime scene photos yourself. Aren’t you wondering where she is?”
Skye let out a sigh and plopped down in the chair across from Harry. “At the moment, I’m wondering a lot of things. Nothing makes any sense unless someone wants us to think Clayton did it. Framing people is tough to do, Harry, especially framing someone for murder. You know that better than I do from all the years you worked homicide.”
Harry was about to respond when Leo burst into the room.
“In all the commotion Monday trying to track down Clayton’s Audi, I forgot until this morning that you asked me to look up what happened while Clayton attended college.”
Skye waved a hand. “It’s okay. I intended to look it up last night, but with the storm, our Internet got knocked out. It often happens. The downside of living on an island.”
“Yeah, well, this guy got charged with rape while at Sonoma State. Twice.”
Skye glared at Harry. “An innocent guy, huh?”
“The charges were dropped,” Harry added quickly. “I checked it out myself when it happened. The two of them had been drinking…”
Skye held up her hand. “Stop. Just stop defending him.” She angled toward Leo. “What else?”
Leo shifted his feet. “Here’s the deal. I found a connection between Clayton and Lindsey Mathison that goes back more than ten years. Guess who Clayton took to his high school prom?”
Skye’s mouth fell open. “Lindsey Mathison went to her prom with Clayton Spencer?”
“Yep. Ballard High School. They dated that summer after senior year for two months before he headed off to California and Sonoma State. We now know what happened there.”
“We need to find out where Clayton was the day Lindsey went missing.”
“Skye,” Harry began. “I’m telling you, it’s not him.”
“Don’t do that, Harry. I warned Josh about tunnel vision. He’s believed Clayton was
guilty from the start. Now that same thing applies to you for thinking he’s innocent. Two women in Clayton’s life have gone missing…forever kind of missing, Harry. Are you suddenly believing in coincidences? Because you used to think those kinds of things were BS. In your former life, the fact that two women have disappeared around Clayton would be enough for you to laser in on him as a suspect and stay there. So don’t sit there and defend this guy anymore just because you knew him as a kid, okay? People change. They change a lot. Until we can fully eliminate him, you need to prepare yourself for disappointment. And maybe prepare his parents for the same outcome.”
“I’m not going to Dewayne and Kay and tell them their son is a killer.”
“Well, don’t do it until we know more,” Skye shouted. “But it doesn’t look good, okay? You’re too emotionally involved in this to think clearly. If you can’t detach like a cop, then you need to step back and let us take the lead for real. I thought that was the deal.”
Judy popped her head into the kitchen. Recognizing a tense situation, she cleared her throat. “I’m not sure if this is related to anything, but another woman’s gone missing. Her name’s Jennifer Mack, a law student at UDub. A friend notified her mother in Montana that she didn’t show up for class two days in a row. When the friend went to check on her at her apartment, Jennifer didn’t answer the door. She got the building manager to let her in, but there was no sign of Jennifer. Her mother called our hotline. Deborah Mack’s on the phone now. And she’s in a panic.”
Skye got to her feet. “I’ll talk to her.” She glanced at Leo on her way out. “Better run that name through the database, get a jump on her background. Meanwhile, I’ll get a date of birth and the other pertinent stuff we’ll need from the mom. Sounds like Jennifer might be in danger.”
****
“I’ll be honest, I’m getting a bad feeling about the second disappearance,” Skye admitted to Josh. “I know it’s early, but Jennifer’s mom is freaking out that her daughter wouldn’t up and leave like this, not even for a man. Plus, it’s another extreme vanishing act within a week’s time of each other, and that’s troubling. After talking to Deborah, she convinced me that Jennifer met with foul play.”
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