by Linda Berry
Linthrope stared off into the distance as though gazing back in time. “I remember being interrupted at dinner by a call from your predecessor, Chief McDonald. He told me to come out to Ann’s farm right away. There was a body. When I arrived on the scene, I found John lying face down in the garden. A ghastly sight.” Linthrope breathed in heavily through his nose. “Head completely bashed in.”
Sidney shivered. “What led to his death?”
The doctor’s eyes met hers. “According to Ann’s testimony, John showed up at her house stinking drunk. She was working in the garden. Didn’t hear him. He came up from behind and attacked her, quite viciously. He locked his hands around her throat while ranting about killing her and Matt. Matt came up behind him and whacked him with a shovel. The force of the blow drove him to his knees. Reportedly, Ann then grabbed the shovel and administered several more blows, any of which could have killed him.”
The hair rose on Sidney’s arms. “Reportedly?”
Linthrope opened a folder and passed over photos of John lying in the garden, his scull bashed to a bloody pulp. Sidney was startled by the brutality.
The doctor ran a tanned, freckled hand through his hair. “I’m not sure Ann could have done that. Maybe incapacitate him, but pulverize his skull? Savage.”
“You think she covered for Matt?”
He shrugged. “Hard to fathom where that kind of rage comes from. But if anything could trigger a son’s fury, this is it.” He passed out photos of the injuries Ann sustained from John’s attack—one eye swollen shut, nose bloodied, bottom lip split open, purple and red bruises on her arms and torso, fingers imprinted on her throat.
“Jesus,” Granger breathed.
Sidney was sickened, and speechless. It took a moment to calm herself.
“John’s alcohol level was off the chart,” Linthrope continued. “Those photos confirm she’d been brutally attacked. Matt saved her life. Self-defense. Plain and simple.” He narrowed his eyes. “He was fifteen at the time. A miracle he came home when he did. He’d been at a sports event, but he left early. Wasn’t feeling well.” He paused. “Another few seconds…”
“She would have been a murder victim,” Granger said.
Linthrope nodded. “Indeed.”
“John had quite a police record,” Sidney said. “DUIs. Drunk and disorderly. Routinely picked fights in bars.”
“The man was a violent brute. He used Ann as a punching bag for fifteen years.” Bitterness entered Linthrope’s tone, and Sidney picked up on the underlying sadness.
“We discovered she had racked up quite a list of ER injuries over the years, but she covered for John. Said they were accidents.”
“Classic battered-wife syndrome,” Granger said, shaking his head.
“Correct. Her self-esteem and will to fight back were beaten into submission. Obedience became her survival mechanism. After years of punishment, women like Ann suffer from a profound sense of helplessness. It was only when John turned on Matt, knocked him unconscious, that she was spurred to action. Her instinct to protect her son superseded her fear, and she had John arrested. While he was in jail, she filed a restraining order, bought the house on the lake, and tried to rebuild her life.”
“A restraining order is pretty useless if someone is determined to kill you,” Granger said.
“True. A court order isn’t armor. John was barely out of jail before he tried to make good on his promise.” Linthrope took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and looked drained of energy. “Both Ann and Matt, of course, were traumatized. No doubt, still are. These things stay with you. Layered in the psyche. Ready to surface with any small provocation.” He shook his head. “Poor woman. What she’s been through…”
The sunlight on Dr. Linthrope’s face showed the fine lines of anxiety around his eyes and mouth, and the deeper marks of pain. This case was intensely personal to him, and to Sidney.
“Samantha’s parents came to view the body,” the doctor said, returning to the current investigation. “I didn’t give them specific details.”
“Appreciate that.” She took a long, cool drink of water.
“I’ll contact you as soon as I have the lab reports.”
“When will that be?”
He squinted. “Let’s see, today’s Thursday. Probably Monday.”
“Thank you for your time, Doc.”
“And yours.”
They rose from their chairs and filed out of the room.
Outside the hospital, Sidney felt the full brunt of the midday heat. Indian summer. Hot days were always scattered among the cooling temperatures this time of year. She slid carefully into the passenger seat of the SUV, which had been sitting in full sun, and felt the hot vinyl through her uniform. “Get that air going, Granger.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Granger put on his shades, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb with hot air blasting from the vents. “Where to? Burger Shack?”
“Sounds good.”
“Noah and Matt are looking good as suspects,” he said. “Both use commercial gardening soil.”
“Right. Noah sold Samantha drugs, and Matt dated her. And he wasn’t happy about the breakup.”
“Sounds like he may have stalked her.”
“And Linthrope believes he killed his father.”
“Viciously.”
She shivered, recalling the graphic images. “We need to get DNA swabs from both men. See if either had sex with Samantha before she died.”
Driving down Main Street, Granger pulled to a stop at the only traffic light in town. Tourists dressed in summer clothes milled on the sidewalks. Parents pushed strollers. Kids carried ice cream cones. Folks strolled in and out of shops. Life was proceeding as usual. Innocent. Complacent. Unaware of the dark side of life cops witnessed every day. Through the storefront window of the Art Studio, which had been Moyer’s Tack and Feed for fifty years, Sidney saw a circle of students standing in front of easels facing the instructor. Art classes! It astonished her how fast the town was changing. No longer ardently blue collar with farmers and ranchers the bulk of the population. Pots of flowers brightened sidewalks, storefront windows displayed appealing merchandise, and trendy cafes had replaced shoddy greasy spoons.
The air conditioning finally blasted cold air, evaporating the sweat from her skin. She directed her thoughts back to the case. “What’s Noah's last known address?”
“He’s staying with his dad.”
“Which puts him smack in the vicinity of the murder.”
“What about Miko as a suspect? There are rumors he killed his wife.”
“Chief McDonald rejected Miko as a suspect. Lie detector ruled him out.” Sidney brought up Noah Matsui’s police report on her laptop and read the details out loud to Granger until she was interrupted by the hum of her phone. Selena. “You back at Ann’s? How’s Bailey? Good. Good.” A pause. “Okay. See you soon.” She disconnected and said, “Turn around. We’re going to Ann’s.”
“What happened to Burger Shack?” he said with a tinge of disappointment.
“Ann and Selena invited us to lunch. Want a greasy burger, or home cooking by a truly amazing chef?”
“Door number two. I’m starving. Can I put on the lights and siren and take this baby up to ninety?”
Sidney was glad to hear a smile enter his voice. “Starvation is a legitimate emergency. Cut ’er loose.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
SIDNEY AND GRANGER rapped on the door and stood waiting on Ann’s covered porch. The dark, ominous character of the previous night had dissipated with the sunshine, and today the farm looked like paradise. The air was fragrant with roses, she could hear the drone of bees, and butterflies fluttered over colorful blossoms. Sun glimmered on the surface of the lake, and clear blue sky arched overhead.
“Hard to believe anything ugly could happen here,” Granger said, shaking his head. “That a man would come here to kill his family.”
“Evil lurks beneath the thinnest of veils,” Sidney
said, quoting one of her father’s often-used phrases.
The door opened and Selena stood in the doorway, still dressed in yoga clothes, her lissome figure shown to its best advantage. “Yay. You’re here.” Her gaze shifted to Granger, and Sidney saw her green eyes brighten with interest.
Granger’s neon blues widened minutely, and a smile tugged at his lips.
“Selena, this is Officer Granger Wyatt. Granger, my sister, Selena.”
The two clasped hands and peered into each other’s eyes for a long moment.
Sidney cleared her throat.
Selena pulled her hand away. “Come on out to the patio. Lunch is waiting. We already ate, but we saved you some.” She led the way through the house.
Granger’s gaze swept over her sister’s tall figure from top to bottom, which Sidney admitted was pretty spectacular. Sidney was happy to see sparks fly between the two. Her sister had been held hostage to Randy McBride’s capricious nature since she was sixteen and they were high school sweethearts.
Married at eighteen, Selena never batted an eye at another man, though it was rumored her rodeo bum husband philandered while he was on the road. Randy drank too much, gambled away paychecks, and offered no support when Selena started her business. But he was drop-dead gorgeous, could charm the venom out of a rattler, and had convinced an intelligent woman like Selena that she’d won the lottery when she married him.
Sidney never gave up hope that Selena would see though Randy’s pretty veneer and dump him. As it turned out, the bastard left her after she lost their second baby, just when she needed him most. Thinking about Randy made Sidney’s stomach churn.
Her mouth watered when she spotted lunch spread across the wrought iron tabletop. Pasta tossed with tomatoes and fresh herbs, crisp green salad, grilled eggplant, and a plate of rosemary cheddar cheese scones. A perspiring glass pitcher of ice tea reminded Sidney of how hot and thirsty she was.
She and Granger did a double take when they greeted Ann. A giant raven was perched on the back of her chair. Ann offered a treat on her palm, and the glossy black bird scooped it up in its beak, then in a showy flutter of wings, the bird took flight across the garden and disappeared into the gnarled branches of a giant oak.
Sidney turned her gaze to Bailey, sprawling on the flagstones at Ann’s feet, snoring loudly, all four paws bandaged.
“He’s dead to the world. Pain pills,” Ann said.
“What happened to his paws?”
“Not sure. The vet thinks he was dropped off far away from home and had to trot back, ten to twenty miles. He also got whacked on the skull.”
“Holy smoke,” Granger said.
“Thank God our psycho didn’t kill him,” Selena mused, placing plates and silverware on the table.
“Yeah, it could’ve been worse,” Ann said, stroking the dog’s big sable head, avoiding the lump.
“How are you doing?” Sidney asked.
Ann looked tired, with purple shadows beneath her eyes, and an unmistakable tension in her posture. “Better, now that Bailey’s home. Please, officers, sit and eat.”
Sidney happily complied. Her stomach somersaulted from the aroma wafting over the table.
Granger needed no further prompting. He loaded his plate and was stuffing his mouth before Sidney even got started. Selena filled Sidney’s glass, and she drank thirstily.
“Tea?” Selena asked sweetly, holding the pitcher over Granger’s glass.
He nodded, smiling up at her.
“I’ve seen you patrolling around town,” Selena said. “You look vaguely familiar.”
“I grew up here, but I was in Afghanistan for four years.”
“Ahhh. Welcome home, soldier. So, you went to Garnerville High.”
“Class of 2006.”
“I was the class of 2007. We were in school together. We never actually met, though.”
“I was involved in ranching stuff—4-H, animal husbandry.”
“I wasn’t.” She laughed. “I’ll have to get out the yearbook.”
Granger was certainly a handsome man, Sidney acknowledged, with his short tousled hair and wind burned cheeks, and he kept in great shape mending fences and lugging hay bales. Selena always had a weakness for cowboys, and Granger was the real deal. Sidney found herself hoping their mutual attraction would grab hold and stick.
Sidney twirled pasta around her fork and ate without speaking. Everyone was quiet for a minute, the sound of silverware clicking against plates.
“We found something that may be from the crime scene,” Selena said, breaking the silence.
Sidney’s antennae shot straight up. “What’s that?”
“I’ll get it.” Ann left the table and returned holding the baggie. Sidney felt her heartbeat pick up as she examined the butterfly. She passed it to Granger. “Look at this.”
His jaw tensed and he looked back up at Sidney. “Holy heck.”
“Looks like a drop of blood,” Sidney said.
Ann and Selena watched with rapt attention.
“Where’d you get this?” Sidney asked.
“Arthur brought it. Around midday.” Ann peered toward the gnarled oak tree.
“The raven?” Sidney asked.
“He brings me gifts.”
“You keep them?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to see what else he’s brought.”
“I’ll get my collection.” Ann left, promptly returned, set a fishing tackle box on the table, and opened it.
Sidney poked through two layers of small compartments containing an assortment of brightly colored pieces of paper, polished stones, beads, and buttons. She did a quick inhale when she found a match to the amethyst earring belonging to Mimi, which she held out to Granger on the palm of her hand. His eyes widened, and his amazement mirrored her own. The fastidious raven seemed to have picked up items from both crime scenes. How did her team miss this butterfly last night? Where did Author find it? If only the raven could talk! Was that Samantha’s blood? “Can I borrow a couple things in this box, Ann? I’d like to have them analyzed.”
“Of course.”
Sidney took out her phone and snapped pictures of the butterfly before turning back to Ann. “I understand the perp kept Bailey’s collar.”
She nodded. “He can’t get my address from my phone number, right?”
“It would be difficult. If you do get a threatening call, let us know. We might be able to trace it back to the caller.”
Sidney saw fear pass over Ann’s face, and she said in a firm voice. “This man is interested in you because he believes you can recognize him.”
Ann breathed in and out, carefully. “I can’t.”
“I know. Matt told me last night. But the man you saw doesn’t know that. The news of this murder will be in the morning paper. We could add that you couldn’t recognize him because of your facial blindness.”
She stiffened. “No. I don’t want the whole town to know.”
“Ann, it’s a good solution. Otherwise, you’re vulnerable. I can’t protect you. We don’t have the manpower to post someone twenty-four-seven here at your farm.”
Ann’s mouth tightened, and her eyes flashed. “I can take care of myself.”
Sidney looked to her sister for help.
“Listen to Sidney, Ann,” Selena said, placing a hand on her friend’s arm. “Your life may be in danger.”
“No.” Ann crossed her arms, lips a tight seam on her pale face.
“When will Matt be here?” Sidney asked.
“He won’t.”
“He told me he’d be staying with you.”
“That’s not necessary. He needs to work.”
“I’m staying nights with her,” Selena said. “We’ll both be armed.”
Sidney felt her stress level rise a notch, and turned back to Ann. “Have you ever shot a gun?”
“No. But Selena will give me lessons.”
“This isn’t a Kill Bill movie, Ann,” Sidney said with an edge.
“This is real life. A sadistic killer is loose in your neighborhood.”
“No.”
Sidney stared hard at Ann, but the woman averted her eyes. She had a stubborn streak as wide as Lake Kalapuya. There was nothing more Sidney could do to persuade her.
“I can stop by every night on my way home and check things out,” Granger volunteered, a loaded fork in one hand and a scone in the other. “Our ranch is just a few miles up the highway.”
A smile reshaped Selena’s beautiful mouth. “That’d be great. We’ll feed you.”
The two locked eyes and Sidney watched color creep up from Granger’s neck into his cheeks. Selena’s eyes were shining—sparks of attraction shooting off in the midst of a life-threatening crisis.
The table was quiet as Sidney scraped the last bite of pasta off her plate and chewed. Signaling to Granger with a nod toward the door, she stood to go. “Thanks for the great lunch. We need to go talk to your neighbors.”
Granger gulped down his tea, grabbed a scone for the road, and shot Selena a flirtatious smile. “Thanks for lunch.”
“See you tonight.” She beamed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GRANGER DROVE a few hundred yards north on the highway and turned onto Miko’s gravel driveway, and the rich smell of turned earth and manure flowed through the open windows. Sidney spotted a two-story clapboard farmhouse with a big shaded porch, rolling green fields, apple orchards, a sun-bleached barn, and a few utility sheds. Everything tidy and well maintained. Two curious dogs, both gray-muzzled mutts, loped up to the Yukon, tails furiously wagging.
Miko Matsui stepped out of the barn into the sunlight wiping his hands on a rag. He frowned when he saw their police vehicle, but he gestured for them to park next to the barn. He went back inside, limping slightly.
When Sidney and Granger entered the barn from the bright autumn sun, the darkened interior blinded her for a moment. She blinked as her eyes adjusted, then her gaze swept over several big pieces of farm machinery, neatly stacked bales of hay, and a gaggle of Silkie hens pecking the earth and clucking indignantly at their arrival. Miko was leaning under the hood of a big farm truck, only his khaki dungarees and work boots visible, and she heard metal clinking against metal. She smelled the sweet scent of apples before she saw the dozens of boxes stacked on the flatbed, ready for market.