by Linda Berry
No more prompting was needed. Caps twisted off drinks, pizza boxes opened and hot gooey slices slapped paper plates. Granger shoveled three slices onto his plate, piled high with ham, sausage, veggies, and melted cheese. Everyone took their seats and stuffed their mouths for several minutes without interruption. He noticed the chief managed to get through two sizable slices of pepperoni before moving to the whiteboard to add more photos, including Noah Matsui’s mug shot.
Granger washed down the flavor of spicy tomato sauce with an ice-cold cola while watching her closely, wanting to learn everything he could from her years of experience. In the military, to do his job well, he had to trust the decisions of his superiors, and Granger implicitly trusted Chief Becker. If she were military, he was certain she’d be a high-ranking officer, maybe a captain or major. In any situation, the chief seemed to know the right thing to do. Toughness when it was needed. Diplomacy when it was the better choice. The center of calm.
She was a tall woman who moved with easy grace, and she gave off an aura of confidence. Not beautiful like her sister, but nice-looking—a pleasant face with a wide mouth—and hazel eyes that could be kind or stand up to the toughest glare. He hoped he’d never be the target of those eyes when she was angry. They could burn holes in your skin.
The chief paced in front of the whiteboard, shrugging her shoulders as though trying to loosen taut muscles. Her eyes had dark smudges underneath. Operating on fumes, like the rest of them. She faced the group. “Let’s review the results of Samantha’s postmortem examination.”
The officers wiped their fingers with napkins; laptops open in front of them.
“An autopsy is not just a clinical procedure. It’s the last line of defense for a victim. A way for them to talk to us. We learned from Samantha’s autopsy that she was abducted around noon, which means the perp had her for up to twelve hours. Though paralyzed, she was fully conscious. What the perp did to her during that time is unknown. We do know, that during the last minutes of her life, she was terrorized—dragged through the woods, propped against a tree, forced to watch as her wrists were slit and her life drained away. We assume Mimi Matsui encountered the same fate.” Sidney paused to let her words sink in. “We are dealing with a cold-blooded, sadistic killer. He’s smart. We need to be smarter.”
Granger saw tight expressions around the table. This perp worried, even frightened his fellow officers, and troubled Winnie especially, whose face was pinched with worry. Her normal duties took her to administrative meetings, not murder briefings. But she insisted on sitting in, determined to understand this tragic event affecting their community.
The chief lifted her bottled water to her mouth and took a swig. “There’s evidence Samantha was sexually active within twenty-four hours of her death. Semen, condom lubricant, and a single pubic hair were sent to the lab. If she was assaulted, hopefully the results will lead us to her killer.”
The chief added the picture of the raven and butterflies to the crime board. “We have a new detective on board. Arthur.” She proceeded to relay the raven’s penchant for delivering gifts to Ann, pointing to the pictures of the amethyst earring and the second butterfly. “Our mischievous crow apparently visited each crime scene and brought back pieces of evidence.”
There were surprised chuckles around the table.
“These origami butterflies link the two murders,” Sidney said. “The perp wanted us to find them. We need to discover their origin and what they symbolize.”
“Is that writing inside the first butterfly?” Amanda asked.
“Yes. Unfortunately, it was washed out by rain. This tiny symbol is legible, but we don’t know what it means.”
“So, there may be writing inside the second butterfly?” Amanda said.
“Yes. It’s at the lab. Want to brief us on Samantha’s digs?”
Amanda sat forward in her seat. “Samantha lived in a one-bedroom duplex. To her credit, it was neat as a pin. I combed the place. Took samples from the bathtub drain and bed sheets for body fluids and hair. I ran random fingerprints through AFIS, came up empty. No one with a record.” She frowned. “I found it odd Samantha had no diary, journals, or communication of any kind that might incriminate her, or anyone else. It’s like she sanitized her life. I questioned her neighbors within two blocks of her duplex. Most of them didn’t know her, and those who did saw nothing suspicious. She kept to herself, stayed in at night.”
Darnell sat slumped in his seat.
“You here, Darnell, or sleep walking?” Sidney smiled.
“Here. Barely.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “I got her phone records and a list of people she’d spoken with over the last few weeks. Dead space for six weeks while at rehab. No phones allowed. Once out, she made calls to a handful of friends and family members, and a few calls to local businesses, mostly restaurants.”
“Any to Barney’s?”
“No. Mostly take-out food.”
“Anything on social media?”
“Nothing raised a flag. Seems she wiped everything clean while in rehab. Like Amanda said, a sanitized version of her life. You’d think she was in line for sainthood.”
“Credit card purchases, bank withdrawals?”
He studied his laptop for a moment. “Her last purchases were downtown three days ago, just household supplies and groceries. But she did pay with a credit card for a meal at Katie’s Café at 11:35 a.m. yesterday. At fifty dollars, she must have paid for two.”
“Bingo,” Sidney said. “That’s where she had her ham and eggs. Confirms Dr. Linthrope’s timeline. I’ll stop by Katie’s Café after the meeting. See if anyone remembers who she ate with. What else do you have?”
Darnell squinted at his computer, glanced up. “The opposite was true before rehab. Her fellow employees at Hogan’s told me she was a party girl. A hell-raiser. Shooting up smack, snorting coke. Sometimes she came to work high, but they covered for her.”
“Enablers,” Sidney said with an edge. “Think they’re helping, but they’re making it worse.”
Darnell nodded. “She sold and bought drugs from contacts at Barney’s. She wasn’t living high off the hog, just paying for her habit. No one wanted to cough up names of her druggie friends.” He frowned, referring to his notes. “Two months ago, she overdosed at a party in Jackson, hosted by the bartender at Barney’s, Jason Welsh.”
The chief straightened her shoulders. “Overdosed?”
“Yeah. She would’ve died if the paramedics hadn’t reached her when they did. They hit her up with naloxone. That near-death experience may have been her wake-up call. The parents stepped in and placed her in the country club of all rehabs. New Life Clinic in Salem. Samantha hadn’t made so much as a blip on the radar screen since.”
“They must sprinkle fairy dust to cure their addicts,” Amanda said dryly.
“Or she got the holy shit scared out of her, and was frightened into going straight,” Granger said.
“Samantha’s father mentioned Jason Welsh. Any other men in her life?” Sidney asked.
“Matt Howard’s name came up,” Darnell replied.
The chief stared at him for a second. “Same names keep popping up. Bring Jason Welsh in for questioning tomorrow, Darnell. I’ll talk to Matt.”
“Roger that.”
Chief Becker turned and tapped Mimi’s photo on the board. “Mimi’s case went cold. We can’t let that happen with Samantha. These two victims lived in different worlds, but there’s a connection between them. We need to find it. Make sure you show Mimi’s photo to everyone you question about Samantha.”
Nods around the table.
The chief’s shoulders sagged slightly, showing exhaustion was taking its toll.
“Okay, that’s it,” she said. “Go home. Get some sleep. Be sharp tomorrow.”
Everyone helped clean up, and then the room cleared out quickly, but Granger lingered. “You going to Katie’s, Chief?”
“Yep.” She ran a hand over her forehead, smoothing
back wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “I’m also going to pay Matt Howard a visit. He has some serious questions to answer.”
“Want some muscle?”
She shook her head and gave him a tired smile. “Thanks, but I need you to go check on Ann and Selena. Make sure they’re okay.”
“I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WHEN GRANGER pulled into Ann Howard’s driveway, he found the lights blazing in every window, casting long yellow shafts into the yard. He felt a touch of excitement in his gut at the prospect of seeing Selena. The one bright spot in this whole dismal case. He exited the car and climbed the stairs to the porch. The surface of Lake Kalapuya shimmered under schooners of brooding clouds and the air smelled like rain. Another storm barreling in from the coast.
The door opened before he reached it. Selena stepped outside and shut it behind her. She wore tight jeans, a green parka, and a green knit hat pulled low on her forehead. Her hair fell past her shoulders, straight and pale as corn silk. Even in the hard yellow porch light, she looked beautiful. She didn’t smile. He sensed her tension. “You going somewhere?” he asked.
“Yeah, with you. We’re going to search every inch of this property. Ann’s seeing ghosts. Men in the house. Out here.”
Granger morphed into cop mode. “Where out here?”
“Over there.”
His gaze followed her pointed finger to the border separating Ann’s farm from Miko’s. A hazy tunnel of light appeared through an opening in the trees. Granger didn’t like it one bit that two women were living next door to a hardened felon. “Wait here. I’ll check everything out.”
“I’m coming with you.” She pulled a .38 pistol from her pocket, held it down at her side.
“Put that gun away. Stay behind me at all times.” He thumbed on his flashlight, unsnapped the holster of his sidearm, and rested his hand on the hilt. With Selena shadowing him, he scoured the area surrounding the house, casting his beam between trees and under bushes, looking for footprints. None.
“Check under her bathroom window,” Selena said.
He pulled back bushes and illuminated the area but saw no tracks.
“What’s with those scuff marks in the dirt,” she asked. “Looks like someone roughed up the dirt with their shoe.”
“Just messy dirt,” he said logically. “Could’ve been like that for days, or weeks.”
She set her jaw, looked unconvinced. “Ann thought she saw someone in her bedroom. He may have gotten out through this window.”
Granger tried to slide open the widow. It was latched tight.
“It was open a crack when I checked. I locked it. I guess it’s farfetched. An intruder would only have had seconds to get out the window before I checked the bathroom.”
It did sound far-fetched. “In her current state of mind, Ann could have conjured anything. Little green men. Trolls. There’s no evidence someone was here.”
“There was a faint smell in the bedroom and bathroom that I’ve never smelled in the house before.”
“What’s that?”
She shrugged a slender shoulder. “Cigarette smoke. And pot.”
“Does Ann smoke either?”
“No. Neither do I, but I’ve smelled pot at concerts. I didn’t say anything to Ann. She was freaked out enough.”
“I’ll search the house when we’re through out here.”
“We already did.”
He shook his head. “Not much I can do, Selena. No evidence a crime was committed, just a vague smell. That bothers me, though. Let’s check the outbuildings.”
Her face relaxed minutely. “Guess you’re right. I’m probably imagining things, too.”
They circled the shed and the barn. Doors locked, windows locked. As he neared Miko’s property, the air smelled of apples. Big wet drops of rain began to fall, splattering leaves, the ground, and his shoulders. Water slid through his hair like icy fingers. His beam scrubbed the ground between the border of trees where Ann saw her ghost. The opening was tall enough for a grown man to stand. There were lots of prints stamped into the earth by the same pair of boots, and a scatter of cigarette butts.
Selena gave him a direct stare. “Here’s evidence.”
“Noah obviously comes here to smoke.” He sucked in a breath. “Nothing illegal about that.”
“Most of the footprints face our house. He’s watching us.”
“Nothing illegal about that, either. He’s on his own property.” His voice was calm, but it made Granger uneasy that Noah habitually watched their house. “I’d feel better if Matt was staying here.”
“Me, too, but she won’t ask him.”
“Stubborn.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Look, make sure you keep the house locked up tight. Stay alert.”
“I promise.” She smiled.
He smiled back.
Granger pulled a latex glove and evidence bag from his duty belt, squatted, and picked up several of the butts.
“Cleaning up after him? My, you are civic minded.”
“Something like that.” He now had a source of Noah’s DNA to send to the lab. He straightened up, standing close enough to Selena to smell the sweet scent of her hair. He was six-foot-two, but in her boot-heels, her eyes were level with his. Celadon green in the dim light. Her proximity felt intimate. He respectfully took a step back.
“You’ve solved the mystery of the ghost.” She sounded relieved. Glistening raindrops ran down her cheeks. “Come on in the house. I saved dinner for you.”
Granger was full from pizza. “Great,” he said, snapping his handgun in place. “I’m starving.”
They heard the crunch of gravel, and a body materialized in the opening, limping slightly. It was Miko, carrying a sizable basket of apples. “I saw your flashlight, Officer. Please give this to Ann Howard. Tell her I’m sorry for the bad experience she had last night.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
After Miko shifted the weight of the basket over to Granger, Selena stepped forward, arm outstretched. “I’m Selena, Ann’s friend and business partner. I’ll be staying here the next few nights.”
“I’m Miko. Nice to meet you.” He gently held her hand rather than shaking it.
“Does Noah come here to smoke?” Granger asked.
“Yes.” Miko looked toward Ann’s house. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth turned downward for a moment, but he said nothing more. He bowed slightly and backed away, disappearing through the silvery curtain of rain.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BY THE TIME Sidney parked in the full lot, the rain had lightened to a drizzle, and it was prime dinner hour at Katie’s Café. The clean smell of pinesap swept in from the forest, and a dark, brooding sky hung over the lake, threatening more rain.
Normally at this hour, tourists would be seated on the sidewalk patio, but the tables stood empty and slick with rain, the shallow puddles reflecting the overhead strings of twinkly white lights. Inside the café she was met by the tinny drone of voices and the aroma of roasted coffee and grilled seafood. People were lined up at the espresso bar, their gazes fixed on the multi-tasking barista. Two waitresses delivered platters of food to people crammed into the eating area that barely accommodated ten tables. The evening specials were scrawled across a chalkboard: Prime rib with Gouda mashed potatoes. Grilled scallops with coconut rice pilaf.
Out of respect for her sister, Sidney had boycotted Katie’s since Randy McBride appeared on the scene two months ago. Selena’s ex had abruptly quit rodeo and picked up a new career as prep chef and baker-in-training at the cafe. He had given Selena the courtesy of one visit, updating her on his life transition while packing some of his belongings. In parting, he pulled her close in the driveway and kissed her. A bedroom kiss, Sidney thought, watching from the window. When they came up for air, they were both flushed, and Selena’s eyes glistened with emotion. Randy had given her a filament of hope. Cruel to let her think things could be
patched up between them. With one foot in her life and the other out the door, he effectively kept Selena in limbo. Thinking about it made Sidney bristle.
The chic little restaurant reminded her of how the blue-collar town was changing. Just three years back, Katie’s had been a slipshod coffee shop, catering to farmers and cowboys. Designer coffee drinks had replaced pots of Maxwell House, and eggs Benedict on arugula replaced six-egg omelets, greasy bacon, and pancakes the size of frying pans. Prices doubled, irritating the old-timers who migrated to Jake’s Grill, where a hard-working ranch hand could still get massive proportions at affordable prices.
Sidney tugged her thoughts back to her homicide investigation. She was here with a purpose. She searched for Katie and spotted her behind the cashier’s counter. The swinging door to the kitchen opened behind Katie and Randy stepped out carrying a huge sheet of cookies in both hands. Tall, lanky, strikingly handsome, his sandy hair netted, he bent over to slide the sheet onto a shelf in the display case. Sidney sidled up to the glass. Randy glanced at her and dropped the tray onto the shelf with a thunk. The cookies bounced, a few breaking apart.
Katie jerked her head toward Randy and followed his gaze to Sidney. She was a red-haired, fleshy, matronly woman with loose jowls, who wore sensible shoes and a flowered dress covered by a white apron. Randy nodded a greeting at Sidney, snatched up the handful of broken cookies, and hurried back into the kitchen. The door swung shut behind him, but not before she saw Gus, Katie’s husband, standing over the smoky grill. Randy was framed in the rectangular window in the door, head down, back to work chopping vegetables.
“Chief Becker,” Katie’s smile wavered. “Haven’t seen you for a while. What can I do you for?”
Sidney smiled back. Katie and Gus Carter were good people, hard workers, stalwart supporters of the community. “Got a minute?”
“Just. We’re busy.”
“I need to ask about Samantha Ferguson.”
Katie’s brow deeply creased. “I heard. Terrible. Can’t believe Sammy’s dead.”