Investigate With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel

by Jen Talty

  Jag turned on his heels and headed toward the parking lot, waving his hand over his head. “No worries. Be safe, man.”

  No sooner did his feet land on pavement than Bailey and Jackie raced to his side, shoving a microphone in his face.

  “Why were you called in?” Jackie asked.

  “Is it because the Trinket Killer is back?” Bailey asked with a smug grin.

  “No comment.” Jag opened the patrol car door.

  “We heard there were two murders on the island. Are they related?” Jackie asked.

  “You ladies have a great evening.” He turned the key and slammed the gearshift into reverse. He was going to hate having to face Bailey in a press conference. Once this was over, he was so going to enjoy going back to living his quiet life on the island.

  Hopefully, with Callie.

  Callie stood next to Jag, squeezing his hand as if she were falling off a ledge and he was her lifeline.

  “Since when are you this nervous interviewing someone?” Jag asked.

  She didn’t get a chance to answer as the front door to John Armstrong’s modest home in a suburb on the west side of Seattle swung open.

  “Hello?” an older man with bright silver hair asked. He had a darker skin tone, as if he’d been lying in the sun for a few weeks. Deep wrinkles lined his lips and eyes. “May I help you?”

  “We’re sorry to bother you.” She cleared her throat. “My name is Callie Dixon, and this is Langley Chief of Police Jagar Bowie.”

  “I know who he is,” John said. “Did something happen?”

  “I’m not here on official business,” Jag added, holding his hand up.

  “Then why are you here?” John asked.

  “Long story short,” Callie started. “I’m writing a book about the Trinket Killer and we—”

  “I’m not giving you a statement about my ex-wife and whatever she might have done,” John said.

  “I don’t want a statement.” Callie flicked some of her long hair over her shoulder. “We’d like to ask you about your daughter and her college roommate,” Callie said.

  “Oh.” John ran a hand over his face, pulling open the door. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Thanks.” Jag pressed his hand on the small of her back, nudging her forward. “We won’t take up too much of your time. We were also hoping to get updated contact information for Carol.”

  “That I can’t help you with.” John led them to the family room where he took a seat in a recliner.

  Callie made herself comfortable on the sofa, placing her elbow on the armrest while Jag continued to stand, stuffing his hands in his pockets and checking out the few pictures on the mantel.

  “Why not?” Callie asked.

  “I haven’t spoken to my daughter since right after the murder of her roommate, and before that, we didn’t have a good relationship. Her mother and I had a horrible marriage. Our divorce was even worse. Over the years, Leslie poisoned my daughter against me, and no matter what I did, Carol just didn’t want anything to do with me.” John shook his head. “And I didn’t do much to get her back, and that’s something I struggle with every day.”

  “You have no idea where she went?” Callie asked.

  John shook his head. “When her mother committed suicide, I hired a private investigator to look for Carol, but he came up empty-handed. It’s like she completely vanished.” John glanced toward Jag. “You know, while I didn’t like my ex-wife much, I have a hard time believing she killed herself. You knew her. Worked with her. What do you think?”

  “I’ve wondered that myself,” Jag said.

  “She was accused of tampering with evidence on the Trinket Killer case. Did she do it?”

  “I hate to admit it, but she did.” Jag nodded. “I wish I knew why. It doesn’t make sense that she’d do that with the Trinket Killer murders and no other case.”

  “I do know that Leslie loved her job. And from what I remember, she was good at it. But as a wife, well, she was insanely jealous. I couldn’t go out of the house without her thinking I was cheating on her. She used to wake Carol up in the middle of the night when I was working the C rotation.”

  “You’re a fireman, right?” Callie asked.

  “Retired. But yeah. Anyway. Leslie always thought I was cheating, and she told Carol that. Carol believed her, and when I met my second wife, things just got even worse. Truthfully, I was a selfish prick back then. If I knew I was never going to see my daughter again, I might have not gotten married so fast, but I can’t change the past, can I?”

  Jag held up a picture frame. “Is this your second wife and children?”

  Callie stretched out her arm, wanting to take a close look at the new family.

  “Yes. That’s Tina, my wife. And we had twin boys, Jack and Billy. In that picture they had just graduated high school, but they are twenty-one now. They both joined the Navy,” John said with a bright smile.

  “Where’s your wife now?” Callie asked, trying to keep her hands from shaking. His wife had long, beautiful blond hair.

  Styled just like the Renee’s and Stephanie’s when they’d been murdered.

  “She’s visiting her mom. She’s in a nursing home. I expect her back in about an hour,” John said. “Why are you here?”

  Jag sat on the edge of the sofa. “We are here in part because we’re in the middle of an investigation that could be connected to the murder of your daughter’s college roommate.”

  John let out a big puff of air. “I love my daughter. I really do. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her and wonder and worry about what she’s doing, but she had a temper. She could be wickedly vicious.”

  “How so?” Jag asked.

  “She had a razor-sharp tongue, for one. She had a way of cutting right through a person’s heart. She knew how to hurt people. I could take it, but my wife, not so much, and once she gave birth to the twins, I had to really think about my boys. Not that Carol came to visit often, but I stopped letting her spend the night. That didn’t go over well. She’d call here in the middle of the night, threatening to kill my wife and kids. She’d sometimes show up at two in the morning banging on the doors. It got so bad, I moved.”

  “Did you ever call the police?” Callie clutched the picture. Could this Carol person be their killer? Had it all started when her father remarried? But why kill the roommate? What had she done?

  Callie’s head throbbed. The pounding was deafening.

  “No,” John said with a deflated tone. “But by the time Carol went to college and I moved my family, things settled down.”

  “Did Carol ever hurt animals? Or get into physical fights with other people?” Jag asked.

  “What are you getting at, son?” John sat up taller. “Do you think my daughter killed her roommate? Because she was cleared…oh, you think my ex-wife might have helped…holy fuck. You think my daughter is this Trinket Killer.”

  Damn. He put that together quickly.

  “We don’t think anything right now,” Jag said. “But we do need to find her. Did Leslie stay close to her after the murder? Because to be honest, I had no idea she had a kid, and I worked with her for years.”

  “No. The murder changed their relationship as well. I really don’t know what happened between them, but Carol left Seattle and told both of us we’d never see her again.” John opened the drawer of the end table next to the recliner and pulled out a small pocket photo album. “Here are some pictures of her when she was a child. I don’t have many and none after she turned thirteen, but maybe they can help you.”

  “Thanks. We really appreciate it.” Callie took the booklet in her hands. “Any ideas on where she could have gone or any identities she might have taken on? Any little details you can think of might help us find her.”

  “I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.” John pulled out his wallet. “But here’s the private investigator’s card. I’ll sign a waiver so he can give you whatever he’s found. I would like to find her
. She’d be forty-two now. I can’t even fathom what she’d look like. I pass women on the streets with shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes, and I wonder, could that be my Carol.” Tears welled in John’s eyes. “I’m a good father, but I failed my only daughter.”

  Callie reached out and took John’s hand. “I’ve made some pretty horrible mistakes during my lifetime, and last year my sister was murdered.”

  John gasped. “Oh my. I’m so sorry, dear.”

  “Thank you,” Callie said. “I often feel as though I failed her. But I have to remind myself over and over again that hindsight is 20/20, and even if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t be going back with the knowledge I have today, so I’d probably play the same hand the same way.”

  John’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re a wise young woman.”

  “That she is,” Jag said. “Thank you so much for your time, sir.”

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for your service, young man.”

  “You as well,” Jag said.

  “And please, if you find my Carol, will you let me know, even if it’s bad news?” John stood, showing them to the door.

  “We sure will.” Callie felt compelled to give the man a hug. “Take care of yourself.” Callie stepped outside. The sun had set, and a cool chill settled across her bones. She held up the pocket photo album, flipping to one of the last pages. She stared at an image that took her breath away. She clutched her heart and gasped.

  “What is it?” Jag asked.

  “That kind of looks like a young Kara.”

  Chapter 15

  Jag leaned against the kitchen counter at his parents’ house, staring at the coffee machine, willing it to brew faster while his father stood in front of the toaster, tapping his fingers as if that would make the bagels jump up quicker.

  “Where’s Callie?” his father asked.

  “In the shower,” Jag said. “Thanks for letting us stay here tonight.”

  “Anytime. I just wish you didn’t have to leave so early. Your mom would love to put on a big breakfast.”

  “I have to be at the office by eight.” He poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to his father. “We’re also putting some pieces of the puzzle together when it comes to the Trinket Killer.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” his father said. “It’s good to have Callie back.”

  A smile tugged at Jag’s lips. “I have to agree. But it could be short-lived.”

  “Are you saying that for my benefit or yours?”

  “Probably both. I’m just trying to be realistic. I mean, I never expected that she’d return.”

  “But she did.”

  Jag blew on the hot liquid. “And so did the Trinket Killer.”

  “You really think that bastard is back?”

  “You saw my press conference,” Jag said. “She’s back, and she’s out for blood. I’m just not sure what her end game is, but we’ve got our first good solid lead, if we can find her.”

  “We? Who is this we you speak of?”

  Jag laughed. “You and Mom think you’re being so coy, but you’re not. And yes, the we is me and Callie. We’ve always made a good team when I check my ego at the door and she’s not in it for ratings.”

  His father rested a strong arm on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I know I was a bit of an asshole for a while there.”

  “When you were forced to take a leave from the police department and Callie left, you said and did a lot of things that hurt your mother.”

  “I know, and I’ve apologized profusely.”

  His father nodded. “It’s water under the bridge. But we know you and understand you better than most. You’ve just gotten your life back in order, and if it were just Callie coming back into your life, I’d be biting my tongue, but adding in a killer that consumed you for the better part of four years and then nearly destroyed you last year, I find myself wanting to remind you of how dark things got for you.”

  “You don’t have to.” Jag tapped the center of his chest. “I haven’t forgotten. But I am a different man than I was even six months ago. This isn’t about having the best record in the department or making some crazy name for myself. It’s about justice and doing my job. That’s all I care about.”

  “And what about Callie? What does she care about these days?”

  “Not ratings,” Jag said with a chuckle. “But she’s a little lost. She doesn’t know what to do next. Once this book is done, she plans on leaving and heading to the East Coast to maybe write another true crime book, but I can tell she has no idea what she wants.”

  “Maybe that’s because she’s fighting what she’s wanted and needed all along.”

  Jag laughed. “Sometimes I think this family has loved her more than I have.”

  His father raised his mug. “She’s something special, and she brings out the best in you.”

  The toaster popped up a couple of bagels. His father went about slathering them with cream cheese. He set them on two plates and sat down at the kitchen table.

  Jag joined him, snagging one of the crispy raisin bagels covered with melting cream cheese. He dipped his index finger in the creamy white stuff, sucking it into his mouth before taking a big bite. He chewed as fast as he could and swallowed. “I want to ask her to stay.”

  “So do it.”

  “I want to give her the engagement ring back.”

  His father spit out his coffee. “As in you still want to marry her? Like jump right back into that pool?”

  “I take it you think that idea is crazy.”

  “No, son. I don’t think it’s nuts. Not from your perspective. But from hers? It might be.” His father ripped off a piece of his bagel and plopped it in his mouth. “Why did she come back?”

  “To try to get an interview from me and finish her book,” Jag said. His heart skipped a beat as he realized she never really gave him a second thought. Being with him during these last two weeks hadn’t been something she’d thought about like he had over the last year.

  Or if she had, she hadn’t let him know that.

  “That’s the only reason?” his father asked.

  “That’s what she told me.”

  “And you took that at face value?”

  “Dad, what are you getting at?” Jag asked.

  “She was madly in love with you. She knew things about you and that case that no one else did. She could have written that chapter about you without ever interviewing you. Did you ever consider that maybe, even if it was subconscious, that she came back because she wanted and needed to be with you?”

  “No, actually, I hadn’t,” Jag admitted. Not for one second did he ever consider Callie came back for the sole purpose of being with him. Nope. It had been about the book.

  Which meant she hadn’t really changed.

  Only she had.

  Jag rubbed his temples. “She keeps telling me she’s leaving soon.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Have you ever thought that she’s wanting you to fight for her? Because, no offense, son, but you never did that before.”

  Jag stuffed another large bite of his bagel in his mouth. He chewed slowly, taking in some coffee, letting it soak the bread as he stared out the window into the dark morning sky. His father was right. He didn’t fight for her a year ago because she’d bruised his fragile ego. “I’ve told her I still love her.”

  “And what does she say?”

  “That she loves me too, but she can’t go back. That once this book is done, she’s closing the chapter and moving on.”

  “And what do you think that looks like?”

  “Dad, pardon my language, but I have no fucking clue. I didn’t think I’d ever have a second chance, so I’m grasping at a lot of straws here. I’m doing everything I can think of to show her how much I respect her, value her, and love her. Outside of that, I’m at a total loss.”

&nb
sp; His father chuckled. He pushed his empty plate away and took a good gulp of his coffee. “I’m not sure you can do much more than that, but I want you to consider one thing.”

  “Yeah. What’s that?”

  “Look closely at what is making things so different right now from where you were a year ago.”

  “That’s actually easy. I’m not the lead detective, and she’s not a reporter.”

  “Okay. That’s one aspect. But dig deeper, because it’s more than that. Your old jobs are too superficial and an external conflict that is easily resolved. The two of you are on a different level, and I think it’s more about understanding and knowing what you want out of life. You used to think all that mattered was your record, but now you know that serving your community is what it’s all about. You know that being a police officer isn’t about the impeccable record but about doing right by the people you serve. How is what she’s doing different than being a reporter? What is the purpose of her writing this book?”

  Wow. That was a really good question and one that Jag had spent a lot of time pondering, but not one he was willing to ask Callie. Not yet, anyway. “Honestly, I think it’s three-fold.”

  “Explain,” his father said.

  “She’s doing it for Stephanie. To keep her memory alive as well as every other victim. To give them a voice and make sure their stories are heard.”

  “That’s a noble cause,” his father said. “What else?”

  “To change the direction of her original reporting. Make up for the sensationalism and go back to what made her want to become an investigative reporter to begin with.”

  “And could the third aspect of this possibly be to reconnect with you and see where that takes the both of you?” his father asked.

  That wasn’t where Jag planned on taking the third part of his thought process, but it made more sense than his theory, which had been…well, fuck, he didn’t have a third tier.

  “It could be,” Jag agreed. “But she’s constantly telling me she’s leaving. Like last night when Mom said we could stay in the same room, Callie made a point of letting me know that it was no big deal if we didn’t share a bed because when the book was done, she was gone.”