“Don’t be so dramatic. I’ve driven a Humvee in the desert under heavy artillery fire.”
“Not a lot of twisty roads, ravines, and oncoming traffic there,” he said and couldn’t help but snicker.
“I didn’t crash an army vehicle and I’m not going to crash a police sedan.”
Changing the subject, McGaven said, “There was a page in here that was misfiled. Missing from her interview. Here, it’s page twelve and thirteen is missing. It could be a misfile from copying everything.” He continued to sort through the pages making sure they were in order.
“Anything interesting?” Katie sipped her coffee.
“Very.”
“Really?” She let her foot off the accelerator and took the next two turns with less speed.
“Mrs. Sadie Caldwell, fifty-five years old, widow, retired correctional officer from Federal Correctional Institution in Lompoc, California. She was caught selling items to inmates including but not limited to, cigarettes, aspirin, mouthwash, arthritis cream, and model airplane kits.”
“Model airplanes?”
“I said it was interesting.”
“She sounded like the local pharmacy until…”
“It seems that Mrs. Caldwell was helping certain inmates with creative implements that could be made into weapons—not to mention the glue-sniffing thing.”
“Was she fired?” said Katie.
“No, she was given the opportunity to quit and take her pension immediately or go to jail for three years. She retired.”
“Smart.”
“Agent Campbell and his team ran a police report on her and it was clean until after she retired. Apparently, she began harassing her neighbors, acting paranoid, saying weird things, and she secured her home like she was protecting a palace of gold. Her threats to Jeanine Trenton began escalating.”
“Are you making this up?”
McGaven laughed. “Nope, not even a little.”
“So I’m assuming that you want to take point on this interview.”
“Ah, that’s a negative.”
“Why? You have a way with the ladies.”
“Not this one. She has an eighth-degree black belt and has been known to get into fights when she worked at the prison.”
“Dr. Dean said that someone with martial arts skills could hit or kick hard enough to damage or stop the heart,” she said.
“That is true. Still want to talk to her?”
Katie thought about it. “When did her husband pass away?”
“Six years ago. He was a bail bondsman.”
“Interesting couple.”
Katie drove past the “Welcome to Raven Woods” sign.
“She’s out of my league as an interviewee,” said Katie. “She probably wouldn’t like me to be in charge and would take direction a little bit easier from you.”
“How about we just wait and see after we meet her?”
Katie turned down Fox Hunt Road again, noticing that the road was mostly deserted and how dark it felt, as trees blocked much of the daylight. It was quiet. She found it difficult to believe that no one had heard or seen anything unusual, according to the reports.
“Deal,” she said.
The overcast day made it even drearier than the previous visit. Katie immediately recalled their brush with gas suffocation and it made her arms prickle.
Could it have been Mrs. Caldwell who tampered with the gas?
Pulling up to the house next door to the boarded-up home of Jeanine Trenton, Katie parked. Neither of them spoke for almost two minutes.
“You ready?” McGaven said.
“Let’s see what Mrs. Caldwell has to say.”
Katie got out followed by McGaven and they studied the brown house, which had heavy white shutters and darkened windows and looked well taken care of and tidy. Katie wondered if they were specialized windows to maintain more privacy. There wasn’t much landscaping, but some bushes across the front. No pots of flowers. No fruit trees. No ground cover. No doormat. Just minimal and natural.
Katie walked up to the porch and glanced up, seeing a video camera lens. She wondered if Mrs. Caldwell was watching them at that moment, so she shifted her jacket to show her badge and gun.
McGaven waited next to his partner.
Katie knocked three times then stepped back. She noticed that there was a pair of yellow gardening shoes sitting next to the stairs. They had a significant amount of mud and brush from the outdoors.
A static radio sounded, coming from a small speaker. Then a woman’s voice said, “State your business.”
“Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department. We want to speak with you for a moment.”
“About what?” The voice was curt and made the cheap speaker crackle.
“Mrs. Caldwell?” said Katie.
There was a pause.
“Mrs. Caldwell?” she said again.
“Yes.”
“Can you come out here to speak with us?”
“I can’t see your badges. State your names.”
Katie sighed and kept her patience in check. “I’m Detective Katie Scott and this is my partner, Deputy Sean McGaven.”
“What do you want to talk to me about?”
“Your neighbor, Jeanine Trenton.”
“She’s dead and gone.”
“We have a few questions. Can you come out here to speak with us?” Katie was losing patience as the woman’s voice grated on her.
“I don’t have to speak with you.”
Katie decided to go another route to try to make her open the door—just a bit of deception and pretext. She glanced at McGaven who kept his best poker face. The street was still unnaturally quiet—no cars; no people walking; no dogs barking; no birds chirping; no wind blowing through the trees—just idly stagnant.
“Mrs. Caldwell, the word around Lompoc is that you were selling drugs and stealing profits for yourself.”
They waited.
The front door unlocked. It sounded as if three heavy locks disengaged. The door slowly opened a crack as a woman’s eye stared out at them. Her short grayish hair was cut in a pixie style with bangs. “That’s a lie.”
“Just repeating what we heard.”
“It’s a blatant lie.”
“We don’t believe in gossip, only in facts. Can we talk to you?” Katie tried to soften her voice and appeal to her as one law officer to another.
“I don’t have to.”
“We know that, but we’re trying to solve a homicide. Any help would be greatly appreciated.”
She opened the door wider as her eyes darted back and forth from Katie to McGaven. “Does the big guy talk?”
Katie laughed. “Sometimes.”
“We just want to ask a few questions about your previous neighbor,” said McGaven. “We won’t take up much of your time.”
“Here’s my card,” said Katie.
“Hmmm,” she said, taking the card and still eying them suspiciously. She opted to open the door wide and stepped out onto the porch, but slammed the door behind her. Her focus rested on McGaven. “You know, my late husband was tall like you.” She seemed to like McGaven and ignored Katie as she stepped further outside.
Mrs. Caldwell was dressed in a running outfit, navy blue, and ill-fitting around her middle. She was heavyset but moved her body much more gracefully than her stocky frame would suggest. It was clear that she’d had some type of advanced physical training.
“Mrs. Caldwell—” Katie began.
“How tall are you? Six foot six?” she asked McGaven.
“And a half,” he said, smiling.
“What do you want to know about that hussy?” Her demeanor relaxed as she focused on McGaven.
“Do you remember anything from the night she was murdered?”
“No.”
“Anything suspicious or unusual from the days leading up to the murder?”
“Like what?”
“People visiting. A strange car parked on the street or sounds of argui
ng from the house.”
“I didn’t hear anything. It was quiet, for once.”
“What about you?”
Mrs. Caldwell took several steps toward the street, expecting McGaven to follow.
Katie kept her distance. She noticed a bamboo pole about three feet long lying on the ground next to the house and thought back to what Dr. Dean had said about the injury on Jeanine’s chest.
“What about me?”
“Well, I heard that you speak your mind a lot around here.”
The neighbor laughed. “That’s a nice way of saying it.” She turned to Katie. “He has a nice way about him.”
Katie forced a smile and nodded in agreement. She watched Mrs. Caldwell’s arms moving constantly, twitchy, her fists clenched, as she anxiously moved slowly around in the front yard. She wore a simple gold band on her left ring finger and when she wasn’t fidgeting, she spun the ring between her thumb and forefinger of her right hand. There was a slight bulge in her pant pocket that matched an outline of a medicine prescription bottle. It was possible that she could be taking something for anxiety, depression, or even a form of schizophrenia—her erratic behavior began to make sense.
“Mrs. Caldwell—”
“Sadie,” she corrected McGaven.
“Sadie,” he said. “What was bothering you about your neighbor?”
“It was those parties.”
“What kind of parties?”
“I don’t know. People would drive up and meet at her house, and then about half an hour later, they would leave.”
“Did that bother you?”
“Not at first. But then the parties got louder and they would be out back making more noise. It’s just not right.”
“Did you call the police?” he asked, knowing that she had from police records he had searched.
“Of course. I obey the law.”
“Of course you do.”
“They just needed to be taken care of…”
Her words hung in the air.
Taken care of…
“You know, right and wrong. The Lord’s wrath.”
“And you’re sure that you didn’t hear or see anything that night?”
“Nope. Wish I did, though.”
“Why?”
“Then that would have meant all the bad voices would have finally stopped.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tuesday 1325 hours
After speaking with Mrs. Caldwell and realizing she suffered from a form of mental illness, Katie wanted some immediate answers from Special Agent Campbell. There was nothing in the reports they had to indicate she suffered from a mental impairment or that she grappled with voices, real or otherwise. It changed the investigation. It distorted the outlook from a witness and next-door neighbor. It was unclear if the neighbor saw something that night or not—she seemed to slip in and out of lucidness.
Katie felt her anxious energy escalate—sweaty palms, faster heartbeat, and shortness of breath. She wanted some answers and they weren’t going to leave Agent Campbell’s suite until they were satisfied that they were all up to speed on the investigations.
What else had been kept from them?
Dark clouds moved in from the north and were in typical rain-cloud clusters, ready to spring a leak at any moment. It was common this time of year, before spring laid out its beautiful colors and warmer weather across the landscape. Even the rolling valleys and mountain wooded areas changed and brightened with spring.
Was it all just a game?
Every day she woke up and didn’t feel doom looming over her was a great day. But these investigations were increasingly taxing and the anxious fear wormed its way into Katie’s psyche, stirring the deep-seated trauma she had suffered and triggering the sneaky symptoms of PTSD.
Katie gripped the steering wheel and concentrated on the strength of the engine performing every time she pushed the accelerator. It gave her comfort and focus on the here and now, instead of what might be. In her mind she challenged herself: Go ahead, weak arms, shaky fingers, and weird dizziness; I’m not afraid of you.
“How do you want to approach Campbell?” asked McGaven. His voice was calm but there was a hint of concern to it.
“I want the truth.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all I ever want when I’m working a case—the truth.”
“There’s some diplomacy needed here, Katie. I know you’re upset, but we need to be smart about this. Maybe confronting him like a stampede isn’t the best way to get what you want.”
“You realize that it’s likely he might have sent us into a trap initially at Jeanine’s house? I suspect that the missing page on Mrs. Caldwell about her mental illness was deliberately left out of our files.”
“You can’t say that for sure,” he said.
“It’s possible, right?”
“Maybe, but the smart way to handle this is to maneuver, not lash out.”
Katie thought about what he’d said. “You’re saying that we need be smarter to weed out the lies and get to the truth.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Katie breathed slowly, feeling the oxygen fill her lungs and then leave her body. She felt a layer of relaxation calm her nerves and begin to soothe her anger.
“Let me know your plan,” said McGaven.
“We’re going to Agent Campbell’s room at the Hobson Inn & Suites.”
“And?”
“And… I know you’re right, but I’m still mad. How are we supposed to solve a case when information is conveniently left out? Who does that? This is the third time we’ve found something missing.”
They were a few minutes away from the motel.
“It’s like we have a mystery within a mystery,” she said. “I don’t know why Uncle Wayne approved this arrangement.”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“I know he has his reasons. He wouldn’t give his okay if he thought there was anything hinky about it. If there’s one thing I know about our sheriff is that he is by the book—he told me so on the weekend. No exceptions.”
“Would that include having his niece head up the crime scene unit with little experience?”
“Do you always have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make sense all the time and call me out.”
“That’s what partners are for.”
Katie stood at the door of room 212 at the Hobson Inn & Suites once again. This time she had a purpose that overrode everything else, but she couldn’t let Campbell know.
It began to drizzle—lightly at first and then more of a shower. The drops were large and dappled the foliage around them, making a calming sound.
She knocked on the door.
It was difficult for her to focus and keep her reaction calm and professional but she was determined not to let her anger get the better of her.
Katie knocked again.
No answer.
“He’s not home?” said McGaven, with a hint of sarcasm.
“It looks like his car is here.”
“Maybe he left with someone else? That agent…”
“Agent Haley?”
“Maybe. Call him or we can come back tomorrow.”
“No,” said Katie.
“No? What do you suggest we do?”
She tried the door and surprisingly found it unlocked. It seemed odd because usually at motels, doors automatically locked when you left. Agent Campbell must have deliberately unlocked the door, which seemed odd with the equipment and confidential information inside.
The doorknob turned in her hand and she hesitated before pushing the door open. To her surprise, McGaven didn’t say anything.
“Agent Campbell?” she said. “Anyone home?” She tried to make her voice sound casual.
Katie and McGaven stood at the threshold, not entering the suite. They could see the command center with photos and reports on the wall. The computers were humming, and there were stacks of various paperwo
rk, file folders, and bankers’ boxes filled with even more information.
“Oh hi, Detective,” came a voice behind them. It was Agent Haley carrying a sealed container that had some type of meal inside and a drink with a straw.
“Is Agent Campbell here?” asked Katie.
“No, he’s doing some errands—I believe personal in nature. Can I help you with something?” She forced a smile.
Katie noticed that the perky agent assistant was different, more solemn. Based on the darkened areas under her eyes, she had probably been working all hours.
“We’re waiting for the results from forensics and autopsy report for the victim at the fairgrounds. I wanted to double-check some information that we received for the Trenton case—I think there might be some missing.”
“Of course,” she said. “Come in.” She walked past them and paused a moment to catch McGaven’s eye.
“Thanks,” said Katie and gave her partner a look, raising her eyebrow.
McGaven shut the door.
Agent Haley put down her food and went to one of the computers. “What are you looking for?” She sat poised with her fingers on the keyboard.
“Trenton case. There was an interview with Mrs. Sadie Caldwell. We seem to be missing some pages.”
“Oh?” she said. “Let’s see here…” She keyed up the case and scrolled through files. Then she opened a desk drawer, rummaged around through various office supplies and retrieved a flash drive, inserting it into the computer. “This will just take a few seconds.”
“That’s great. Thank you,” said Katie as she slowly skimmed the room again. Nothing had changed since their last visit.
The computer hummed as it transferred the information.
When it was done, Agent Haley pulled the flash drive out and handed it to Katie. “There you go. I just went ahead and copied all the reports. Sorry for the inconvenience. I’m a new junior agent, promoted from administrative executive assistant, and it’s been a bit overwhelming, but I’m getting there,” she rattled on then finished with a sigh.
“Thank you,” Katie said and then decided to ask, “Is there anything new on the Trenton case?”
“Not that I know of. Everything is there in your hand.” She popped open her container and began to eat. “Maybe we can keep this a secret? I don’t want Agent Campbell to know that I messed up.”
Pretty Broken Dolls: An absolutely gripping crime thriller packed with mystery and suspense (Detective Katie Scott Book 6) Page 17