by Linda Berry
“No. It’s bloody, is all. Your cheek is swelling.”
“I want him out of here,” Ann hissed. “Get him out.”
Selena turned a pleading eye to Granger.
“Can you hold on a few minutes, Ann?” he said kindly. “I’ve called for backup.”
Ann understood. Noah was dangerous. Granger needed help getting him into the police vehicle, getting him to jail. She didn’t want Granger hurt.
There was the distant moan of an ambulance or police siren, or both. It grew piercingly loud. She heard vehicles brake outside, and more people stormed into her living room. She recognized two more police uniforms gathering around Granger, lifting Noah to his feet, escorting him toward the door. The female officer spoke sharply, “You have the right to remain silent. If you do say anything, it can be used against you in a court of law…”
Another man in a different uniform crouched in front of Ann, introduced himself as Thomas, an EMT, and proceeded to shine a penlight in her eyes, asking her to follow it while he moved it from side to side. Thomas asked her questions, including what year it was, and who was the current president. She answered with clarity, and he appeared to be satisfied. “You’re going to be okay, Ms. Howard. No concussion. Do you want to ride with us to the ER? We’d like to check you out completely.”
“No. I’m fine.”
“You sure, Ann?” Selena asked. “I’ll go with you.”
“I’m okay.”
“Your face is going to hurt for a few days. Keep icing it. Give her Tylenol.” The EMT looked at Selena. “You staying with her?”
“Yes.”
“Keep her awake for a couple hours. Bring her in if she shows any sign of disorientation.”
“Will do.”
The worst of the storm had passed. When the EMT opened the door to leave, Ann heard a soft pattering of rain, and only Selena and Granger remained in the room. She noticed for the first time that Selena was dressed up, wearing a wine-colored dress and heels, and she remembered she had told her she was going to the art show. Selena stepped out of her heels, padded into the kitchen, and returned with a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. “Here, Ann, press this to your face.”
Ann obeyed, winced, but soon the cold numbed the pain.
“This is all my fault,” Selena said mournfully, sinking next to her on the couch. “I never should have left you alone. We knew he was out there, watching. Apparently waiting to find you alone.”
Ann heard the torment in her friend’s voice. “It’s not your fault. This is all on me. I let him in. I didn’t have the gun with me. So stupid.”
Wheels crunched on the gravel driveway, footsteps crossed the porch, and a woman wearing a tight black dress and sparkly jewelry strode briskly into the room.
Granger nodded, said in a professional tone, “Chief.”
“Hi, Sidney.” Selena’s calm voice didn’t conceal an edge of anxiety.
Chief Becker sat in the chair closest to the couch. “How are you doing, Ann?”
“Better, now that he’s gone.”
“An EMT checked her out, said she’s okay,” Selena said.
“Is Noah in jail?” Ann asked.
“On his way,” Chief Becker said.
Ann sighed her relief. “Thank God he’s off the street. Now the town will be safe again, like it was when he was in prison. He’s the killer, isn’t he?”
A long pause. “Let’s take the investigation one step at a time. He’s a suspect, for sure.”
“It has to be him! He attacked me! He’s violent.”
“He’ll be locked away, Ann. You’re safe.” A pause. “Do you want me to call Matt? Let him know what happened?”
“I’ll call. It’ll be best coming from me. He’s going to feel guilty he wasn’t staying here. It’s not his fault. It’s no one’s fault but mine. I was so stupid.”
“You did nothing wrong,” Selena said. “You opened the door to your own home. You should expect to be safe.”
“Granger, Selena, can you let me talk to Ann in private?” Chief Becker asked softly.
“Sure,” Granger said. He put a hand on Selena’s elbow and guided her outside to the porch. When the door clicked behind them, Chief Becker pulled her cell phone from her purse. “Let’s start at the beginning, Ann. I’m going to record this. Take your time. Go slow. Tell me everything.”
Ann clasped her hands tightly, took a deep breath, and began reciting details. “I was home alone, finishing dinner. The doorbell chimed at eight thirty. When I looked out the window, I thought it was Miko, holding a basket of vegetables.” Overcome with emotion, she had to bite her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “As soon as I opened the door, I knew it was Noah. He reeked of alcohol. I asked him to set the basket on the porch and go, but he forced his way in and grabbed me.” Ann trembled, and her voice quivered. She proceeded to describe, moment by moment, the course of events, the violence, right up to the moment Granger pulled Noah off of her. She breathed in deeply, trying to quell the shaking. “If he and Selena hadn’t gotten here when they did, Noah would have raped me.”
Chief Becker sat quietly, absorbing the shock of her words. “Is there anything else you want to add? Any small detail?”
Ann shook her head. “Not right now.”
“Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy.” Sidney turned off her phone’s recorder and put her hand on Ann’s arm. “Let me know if I can help in any way.”
Ann nodded.
“In the meantime, you’re in good hands with Selena. I’ll let her know we’re done.”
Not wanting to be alone, Ann got to her feet and followed Sidney out to the porch.
Selena and Granger stood quietly talking at the end of the porch, beyond the glare of light. Crossing her arms against the chill, Ann couldn’t help but glance into the distance, her eyes excavating the shadows along the border of trees, darting to any small movement, almost expecting to capture the silhouette of a man.
“I have to go to the station to question Noah,” Sidney said to Granger. “I’ll take your statement in the car. Then you need to help Amanda next door.”
“Next door? Who’s Amanda?” Ann asked.
“Officer Amanda Cruz,” Sidney said. “We have a warrant to search Noah’s room.”
“Poor Miko,” Ann said, almost to herself. “His family’s coming apart again.”
“I’ll be right in, Ann,” Selena said gently.
Ann walked back into the living room, leaving the door wide open.
〜 〜
The rain had let up and gauzy veils of mist hung in the trees. Sidney climbed into the driver’s seat of the Yukon and glanced back toward the house where Granger and Selena stood together on the darkened end of the porch. Selena leaned forward and kissed Granger on the cheek. He pulled her into his arms and held her close. Comforting her. A solid guy. Sidney prayed their relationship would deepen and grow. Selena deserved to have a decent man in her life, one who understood commitment, one who knew how to fully love and support a woman.
Granger came down the stairs and scrambled into the passenger side of the Yukon, his face flushed with color.
Sidney wanted to hug him. “Good job, tonight,” she said in a professional tone, turning on her recording app. “Let’s get your statement before Amanda arrives.”
Granger recited the facts concisely: when he and Selena arrived, the front door was open, and vegetables were scattered across the porch—immediate cause for alarm. He bolted inside and saw that Noah had Ann pinned to the couch and was trying to pull down her jeans. When Granger yanked him off, he saw that her face was bloody, and she appeared to be only half conscious. Noah’s jeans were unzipped, and he was exposed. “I cuffed him, called for backup. Called you.”
“Clear as day.” Satisfied, Sidney turned off the recorder. “Your testimony corroborates Ann’s. Noah’s assault charge and attempted rape is ironclad.”
Headlights brightened the interior of the SUV as Amanda pulled into the driveway next t
o the Yukon. The three convened behind her Jeep. “How’d it go with Noah?” Sidney asked.
“He’s booked. In the drunk tank,” Amanda said. “Darnell’s waiting at the station.”
“You didn’t let him make a call, did you?”
“No.”
“Good. We don’t need him telling his dad to hide evidence before you two get over there.” Sidney handed Amanda the warrant. “Do a thorough search. Look for diamond jewelry, women’s clothing, a pair of men’s work boots, size twelve, and anything else connecting Noah to our homicides. Call me if you find anything.”
“Will do, Chief.” The two deputies piled into Amanda’s Jeep and pulled out of the driveway.
〜 〜
The tires of the Yukon hissed over the soaked tarmac as Sidney drove to town, her mind backtracking over details of the night’s events. She and David had been enjoying a quiet, intimate dinner at the Black Rabbit. She had been beguiled by David’s charm and the superb food and wine, which she barely touched before receiving Granger’s alarming call.
Sidney wasted no time calling Judge Whitman and requesting a warrant. She apologized to David, left the restaurant, and stopped by the judge’s house to pick up the document, ever thankful for small town efficiency. Sidney was on good terms with everyone connected to law enforcement in the three-town area. They trusted her, and knew she always went by the book. With Noah in lockup, she could finally get into the arrogant felon’s face.
Thank God Granger arrived on the scene when he did and prevented Ann from becoming a rape victim. Though Selena could handle guns, and was a decent shot, she’d been drinking all evening and wasn’t in a clear state of mind after her encounter with Randy. Sidney shivered, thinking what might have happened if Selena stumbled upon the scene alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
GRANGER AND AMANDA rapped on Miko’s front door, armed with the warrant. Miko appeared in the entryway in wrinkled pajamas, his sleepy expression morphing into one of alarm. Seeing police officers on his doorstep at midnight probably jolted him back to his wife’s murder, Granger thought.
Looking like a man bracing for a blow, Miko asked, “Is Noah okay?”
“He’s been arrested,” Granger said. “He’s at the station.”
Miko’s shoulders sagged. “Drugs?”
“Maybe you should take a seat, Mr. Matsui.”
“What did he do?”
“He forced his way into Ann’s home, about an hour ago, and assaulted her.”
The blood drained from Miko’s face. “He didn’t…”
“No. Selena and I got there in time.”
“Is Ann okay?”
“She’s pretty banged up. He slugged her in the face.”
Miko shook his head, stared at the ground and muttered in a hoarse tone, “What is wrong with that boy?”
“We need to search Noah’s room,” Amanda said gently. “Here’s the warrant.”
Miko blinked at them, dazed, like a drowning victim roused back to consciousness. “His room is upstairs.” Clutching the warrant, he padded down the hallway and led them up a narrow, creaking staircase. After passing two bedrooms and a bath, they reached Noah’s room at the end of the hall. Miko switched on the light and stepped aside to let them enter.
The room reeked of pot and was in a state of chaos, with dirty clothes strewn across the floor, the desktop, and the unmade bed. A cabinet holding a TV and DVD player stood in one corner, and a bookcase sagged beneath a burden of tools, hand weights, stacks of DVDs, and porn magazines.
Granger and Amanda donned latex gloves and began going through the pockets of his discarded clothing, some dusty and smelling of sweat. A pale ghost in the dim hallway, Miko tentatively asked questions about Ann and Noah.
“Sir, it would be best if you left us alone to do our job,” Amanda said.
“Can I go see Noah?”
“Sorry. Not tonight.”
He retreated into the darkness.
〜 〜
Sidney pulled into the station lot at midnight, used her key card to enter, and hurriedly changed into the spare uniform she kept at the office. After pulling her hair into a ponytail, with her cop persona soundly in place, she buzzed Darnell to come to her office.
After a quick greeting, Darnell updated her. “I got an EMT over here to sew up Noah’s head. He noticed fresh tracks on Noah’s arm and asked what drugs he was on. Noah said zip. He’s high, drunk, totally out of it.”
“Breath test?”
“Alcohol level 0.15 percent.”
“Jeeze, he’s a tank. Let’s get him in the sweat box, see if we can squeeze anything out of him.” Sidney clapped Darnell on the shoulder as they left her office, thankful for his crisp professionalism. He and Amanda had been roused from bed to deal with tonight’s emergency. No one was getting much sleep.
The station had two holding cells, which housed suspects until they were transported to Jackson. The Jackson station had six cells, a police force twice the size of Garnerville, a courthouse, four criminal attorneys, and two public defenders. Garnerville utilized Jackson’s bare-bones legal apparatus when needed, and the system bumped along with relative efficiency.
The drunk tank was comprised of tiled walls and a cement floor with a drain in the middle designed to wash away piss and vomit. Noah lay spread-eagle on his back, mouth gaping, his gurgling snores rumbling off the walls.
Darnell and Sidney each grabbed a massive arm and elevated Noah to his feet. Blubbering incoherently, he stumbled between them like a sleepwalker into the interview room and slumped heavily into a plastic chair. Beneath the hard glare of the florescent lights, hands cuffed to the steel tabletop, he blinked at his surroundings as though in a dream.
“I made coffee. I’ll get him a cup,” Darnell volunteered.
“Hope it’s strong.”
“A spoon can stand in it.” He left, reappeared, and parked a sixteen-ounce disposable cup in front of Noah. Then he took his seat, clicked his pen, and opened his spiral notepad.
Noah didn’t look good. Eyes dull and glazed, skin sallow. A square of gauze with a spot of blood in the center was taped to his forehead, and his bruised left brow was puffed up like a marshmallow.
“Drink. It’s free,” Sidney said.
Noah picked up the cup and took a big gulp. Then another. When the cup sat empty, he shuddered to life. His face hardened, hostility glinted in his dark eyes, and his lips twisted into a snarl. “I want out of here. You had no right to arrest me.”
“You’re in serious shit,” Sidney said.
“False arrest.”
“You viciously attacked Ann. Tried to rape her.”
“Bullshit.”
“You can’t worm out of this, Noah. I have the testimony of two people who caught you in the act. One was my officer. Ironclad.”
“She agreed to have sex. She wanted it.”
“You slugged her. She was bleeding. Half conscious. Hardly sounds consensual. You’re going back to jail. Plain and simple.”
He jerked his wrist, rattling the chain on his cuffs. “I ain’t saying shit.”
“Your alcohol level is off the charts,” Sidney said. “And you’re using again. The EMT saw your tracks. How many illegal drugs are we going to find in your tox screen?”
“Fuck you.”
“You could help yourself here. Talk.”
Silence.
Sidney opened Noah’s file and read in silence, taking her time. Minutes passed.
Noah fidgeted, slumped in his chair, sat bolt upright, crossed and uncrossed his legs. Anxiety peeled off him in waves.
Finally, she looked up. Noah’s face was shiny with sweat. She lowered her eyes to the file again. “Hmmm. Parole violation on top of assault. It’s looking bad, Noah. Real bad.” Her eyes locked on his. “Work with us. Maybe get yourself some amenities in jail.”
Noah glared.
Sidney felt the intense heat of his animosity. She didn’t flinch.
He redirected his focus to
his hands, tightly clasped.
The phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and scanned a text from Amanda with two attached photos. Sidney felt a spurt of adrenalin. After sending back a thumb’s up emoji, she showed the photos to Darnell. His eyes widened.
Watching, Noah squirmed in his seat.
“My deputies are searching your bedroom,” Sidney said. “They hit the jackpot.”
Beads of sweat sprouted on his upper lip.
Sidney enlarged the first photo and held it up to Noah. “Want to tell us why you have Bailey’s collar?”
He blinked. “Found it.”
“Where?”
“On the dirt road at the end of our property, by the lake.”
“When was this?”
“Two days ago.”
“Which day?”
“Thursday.”
The day after Samantha’s murder. Sidney stared at him, waiting.
“So I kept her freaking dog collar. So what?”
“It has her phone number on it. You been calling her, Noah? And hanging up?”
The muscles tightened around his mouth.
“We have your phone. We’ll find out.”
“Maybe I called a couple times. Didn’t mean nothing by it.”
“Here in Oregon, harassment is a crime.”
Stony silence.
“Tell me about this.” Sidney showed him a photo of an origami butterfly in a glass box, a perfect match to the two found at the murder scenes.
His jaw clenched tight.
“When I showed you and your father a similar photo, you both said you had no idea what it was. Yet, here you have a duplicate sitting on the bookcase in your bedroom.”
“So what?”
“Impeding a murder investigation is a crime. Where’d you get this?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“You aren’t helping yourself, Noah.”
“What the fuck is this? So I have a fucking dog collar and butterfly. So what?”
“We can now link you to the homicide of Samantha Ferguson.”
“Bullshit!”
“The collar and butterfly are tied to her killer.”
“Fuck that! You ain’t pinning no murder on me!” Noah yanked hard on the cuffs. The cords in his neck stood out like rope. His biceps bulged. The heavy metal table lurched towards him, screeching on the cement floor.