“Now what?” Todd asked.
“See if there have been any like crimes in the area.”
“Shouldn’t take long to find out if other victims have been shot in the face, then pulverized with a hammer,” Todd said.
The heat turned on and hot air swept over her. Usually, Bree froze in her office, but today, she felt clammy and hot. She was hungry, thirsty, and tired. Because of her trip to the ME’s office, she’d skipped breakfast. Sweat broke out between her shoulder blades. The stacks of papers on her desk felt claustrophobic. Her throat tightened, as if the responsibility were suddenly choking her.
She’d lived by herself since she graduated from the police academy. Now, she lived with two children and Dana. She loved them all, but the change was a huge adjustment. Someone was always talking to her. And with Kayla crawling into her bed every night, Bree didn’t even get those hours to recharge. On top of that, her office saw a constant stream of county employees.
She needed to be alone for ten minutes, preferably out of the office in a quiet place where she could think. Her phone buzzed with an email. The owner of Grey Lake Campground was at the site. She returned his email, saying she was on the way.
Bree got up and put on her jacket. “Let me know if anything comes in.”
There wasn’t anything she could do about her exhaustion, but she could grab food and water on the way. The fresh air wouldn’t hurt either.
“Where will you be?” Todd asked.
“Grey Lake Campground.” Bree headed for her door. “I want to look over the cabin and boat ramp scenes again.”
She couldn’t suppress the feeling that she’d missed something.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Matt spent two hours on Oak Street, knocking on doors and asking people if they remembered the party the previous Saturday. He showed neighborhood residents Eli’s picture, but no one recognized him.
He drove to the other side of campus to the house Eli shared with his roommates. Like the rest of the area, the building was typical student housing: old, beaten, and maintained to the absolute bare-minimum standards. He parked at the curb and went up the front walk. A few red plastic cups littered the snow-covered lawn. Matt climbed the front steps onto the porch. Spindles were missing on the railing, and an upholstered couch sat under a window in the corner.
The big old house had been broken down into three apartments, one on each floor. Eli and his pals lived in the downstairs unit. Matt knocked on the door. No one answered, but he heard music within the building. He knocked again, louder.
“I’m coming.” A blond guy in sweatpants and sporting a serious bed head opened the door.
Matt introduced himself. “I’m looking for Eli. I’m a friend of his grandmother.”
“Shit. Yeah. Come in.” The blond guy stepped back. “I’m Christian.”
The front door opened into a small living room. The finish was worn off the wood floors, and everything needed painting. Christian led the way into a cramped kitchen. Other than a stack of pizza boxes, the surfaces were mostly cleared. A large water stain blotched the floor on the other side of the room, and the cabinets were peeling. But it was nicer than where Matt had lived in college.
“I have tea but no coffee.” Christian filled a kettle and lit the burner under it.
“I’m OK.” Matt turned and leaned against the counter. “I’m here because Mrs. Whitney is worried about Eli.”
“Yeah. She’s called us a few times.”
“You don’t seem worried.”
Christian lifted one shoulder. “It’s only been a couple of days.”
“Where do you think he is?”
“With a girl, I hope.” Christian laughed. “Seriously, I love Mrs. Whitney. She’s a real nice old lady, but she’s also a little paranoid regarding Eli.”
“She’s lost most of her family.”
“I know, and that’s why me and the other guys go see her sometimes. Well, that and her pot roast.”
“His grandmother says he would have called her if he was going to miss Sunday dinner.”
“Maybe he did. If she takes out her hearing aid, she can’t hear shit.”
Matt wondered if that was how Mrs. Whitney had missed Detective Dane’s call as well.
“Can I look in Eli’s room?” Matt asked.
Christian frowned. “I don’t think I can let you in there without his permission.”
“But he’s missing,” Matt said.
“Maybe.”
“What if I get Mrs. Whitney to call you?”
“Sorry, man.” Christian shook his head. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the lady detective. If Eli is hooking up somewhere, he’d be pissed that I let some random dude search his room.”
“You didn’t let the detective in?” Matt understood not letting him in. He didn’t have a badge. One of the problems with not being a cop was not having any authority. The sooner Bree gave him credentials, the better. But a police detective was a whole different matter, and Christian’s refusal to cooperate set off Matt’s suspicions.
“She didn’t have a warrant or anything.” Christian’s shoulder lifted and dropped. “I opened the door so she could see Eli wasn’t in there. It’s a small room. But I didn’t let her go through his stuff.”
Without a clear indication of foul play, the detective would have a hard time convincing a judge that she needed a search warrant. Not calling one’s grandmother wasn’t enough. But Matt still found Christian’s attitude perplexing. Was he protecting his friend’s interests? Or his own? Did Christian have something to do with Eli’s disappearance?
Matt let it go. For now. “Tell me about Saturday night. What time did Eli leave?”
“I already went over all this with the detective.” Christian pulled a box of tea bags from the cabinet. “Somewhere around ten. He took a rideshare, so there should be a record of the pickup. The detective has his phone.” Christian frowned. “We were supposed to go together, but I was sick all week. The last thing I wanted to do was party.”
“So, he went alone. Is that typical for him?”
Christian tossed a tea bag into a mug. “Eli’s not shy, and he’s been interested in a girl. Sariah Scott. She shot him down. He needed to blow off some steam.”
Christian’s story was consistent with what he’d told Stella Dane, but Matt still thought something was off about the roommate. If one of Matt’s buddies had been out of contact for days, he’d be worried.
Another student shuffled into the kitchen. He wore flannel pajamas, a university sweatshirt, and sheepskin slippers with holes. His brown hair stood up on one side of his head.
Christian jerked a thumb at him and introduced Matt. “He’s a friend of Mrs. Whitney’s, looking for Eli. This is Dustin.”
“Hey.” Dustin did not seem worried about Eli either.
“Hey,” Matt said. “Did you see Eli on Saturday night?”
“I saw him earlier.” Dustin went to the cabinet for a box of cereal. He filled a bowl and crossed the room to the fridge. “But I stayed at my girlfriend’s place that night.”
“Do you stay with her often?” Matt asked.
He pointed at the water stain. “Since our water heater sprung a leak a week ago, I do. Fucking landlord had it disconnected but hasn’t replaced it. Cheap ass.”
“You have another roommate, right?” Matt glanced around.
“Yeah. Brian.” Dustin poured almond milk on his cereal. “He went to see his mom for her birthday.”
“When did he leave?” Matt asked.
“I dunno.” Dustin took a spoon out of a drawer. “Last Tuesday, maybe?”
“I think that’s right,” Christian agreed.
“Isn’t he missing classes?” Matt asked.
“Yeah, but his mom lives close. He could commute if he wanted.”
Matt pushed harder. He couldn’t believe these guys weren’t concerned about Eli, let alone Brian. “Has Brian ever done that?”
“No,” Christian admitted. �
�But we’ve never had to take cold showers either.”
Dustin and Christian shared a should we tell him look that lifted the hairs on the back of Matt’s neck.
Matt let them stare at each other for a few seconds. Most people don’t like silence and will talk to fill it. The teakettle whistled, the noise seeming to break the moment.
Christian poured hot water into his mug. “Eli and Brian had a fight last week. Brian said he needed some space.”
Matt wondered if the boys had withheld this information from Detective Dane or if she had kept it from him. “But he’s been gone for a week. Have you heard from him?”
“No.” Dustin shook his head, then scooped cereal into his mouth. “But Brian went kind of squirrelly after the fight.”
“What did they fight over?” Matt asked.
Dustin swallowed. “Brian likes Sariah too.”
How cliché. They fought over a girl.
Matt sighed. “Who does Sariah like?”
“I dunno.” Christian’s tone suggested he hadn’t really thought about it.
“Has she dated either one of them?” Matt asked.
“No.” Dustin set his spoon in his bowl. “Eli really likes her, but Brian has a better shot with her. Eli said Brian was being a dick about it.”
Matt crossed his arms. “Why does Brian have a better chance?”
“Because he’s Brian,” Christian said as if this was a no-brainer. “He gets laid more than the rest of us combined.”
Matt kept digging. “Have you tried to reach him?”
“Nope. He was pissed at us too. I figured he’d be back when he cooled off.” Dustin finished his cereal, washed his bowl, and set it on the drainboard. The kitchen didn’t have a dishwasher.
Matt had Brian’s number from Mrs. Whitney. He called it. The line went directly to voice mail. “This is Brian. Leave a message. Better yet, just text me.” Matt ended the call. Then he turned back to Dustin and Christian. “Why was Brian mad at you two?”
Christian dropped his tea bag in the garbage can. “We agreed that he was being a dick, and he should leave Sariah to Eli.”
Matt thought Sariah should be the one to decide who she dated, but he kept his opinion to himself. “Do you have phone numbers for Brian’s parents?”
“It’s just his mom, but yeah. She lives in Scarlet Falls. That’s where Brian’s from.” Christian picked up a phone from the counter and read off the number.
“Does he have other family?” Matt asked.
“Not that he’s ever mentioned. He doesn’t talk to his dad, and he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters.”
Matt entered Ms. O’Neil’s number into his phone. “Is there anything else that might help me find Eli?”
Both boys shook their heads.
“He’ll turn up,” Christian said.
Dustin nodded.
“Do you have a picture of Brian?” Matt asked.
“Sure. I’ll AirDrop it to you.” Christian pressed a button on his phone.
Matt opened his photos and accepted the picture. Brian O’Neil was athletic-looking with dark blond hair and perfect teeth.
“Thanks. If you think of anything, please call me.” Matt gave Christian his contact information. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.” Christian walked him to the door.
Back in his SUV, Matt called Brian’s mother. The call went to voice mail, and Matt left a message. “Hello, Ms. O’Neil. I’m a friend of Eli Whitney, one of your son’s roommates. I’m trying to get in touch with Brian. Please call me back.” Matt left his name and number.
He’d barely ended the call when the phone rang in his hand. Ms. O’Neil’s number popped up on the screen.
“Hello,” he answered.
“Yes. This is Sandra O’Neil. How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Brian. I’m hoping he can help me find his roommate Eli Whitney. Eli has gone missing.”
“Oh, no,” Ms. O’Neil said.
“Christian and Dustin said Brian was with you.”
Two heartbeats of silence passed, then Ms. O’Neil said, “Brian was here last week, but he went back to school on Friday.”
Matt’s blood chilled. No one had talked to Brian since Friday. That was four days ago. Where was he? “Have you talked to him since?”
“No, but I’m going to call him right now.” Fear tightened her voice. “This had better not be some sort of scam.”
“No, ma’am,” Matt assured her. “After you’ve called Brian’s number, you can call Detective Stella Dane at the Scarlet Falls Police Department.”
The line went dead. Ms. O’Neil would inform Detective Dane that Brian was missing. Matt called Bree. Her line flipped to voice mail. Frustrated, he left a message.
He started the engine. He needed to find Bree. When she didn’t answer her cell, he didn’t leave a second message. Matt wanted to see her in person.
Face it, he just wanted to see her. He dialed the sheriff’s station. Marge would know where Bree was.
It could not be a coincidence that both Eli and Brian were missing, and a body had turned up. According to Christian and Dustin, Brian and Eli were angry with each other. Did Brian have something to do with Eli’s disappearance?
Then again, Matt thought Christian and Dustin were oddly unconcerned. Maybe they were the ones who were lying.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Bree turned into the entrance for Grey Lake Campground. The lake appeared around a bend in the lane. She stopped, stepped out of the SUV, and took fifteen minutes to eat a grilled veggie wrap for lunch and watch the sun shimmer on the ice. With some food in her belly, she drove to the campground office.
A man opened the door. “I’m Phil Dunlop.” He held an ACE-bandaged hand against his chest, as if he was protecting it. “Sorry. I can’t shake.” He stepped back and held the door open wider. “Please. Come in, Sheriff.”
Phil wore jeans and a plaid flannel over a thermal shirt. Gray chest hair poked out the top of the crew neck, and beard scruff covered his cheeks. He was about fifty and fit, with a permanent tan that suggested he spent time outdoors all year-round. His hiking boots had plenty of miles on them.
“What happened?” Bree stared at his hand. Was it a coincidence that he’d injured the same hand that was marked on the shooter?
“Slipped on the ice this morning and landed on my hand.”
“Did you see a doctor?” Bree couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually hurt or if he was using the bandage to cover the mark.
“No. I don’t think it’s broken.”
Bree scanned the cabin. The tiny building was configured like cabin number twenty. A registration desk occupied what was supposed to be the living room. But the kitchen was fitted out, and through an open doorway, she could see a double bed.
“Does someone live here?” she asked.
“Only in the summer,” Phil said. “Unlike the rest of the cabins, this one has heat and water in the winter. The manager moves in before the campground opens to the public and stays to close it down in the fall. But it isn’t worth the money to pay someone to babysit an empty campground all winter.” He shook his head. “At least it didn’t make sense before. Maybe having someone on hand would discourage vagrants and shootings.”
“Do you live here in the season?”
“No. I usually hire a kid. I have a place down the lake, but I’m here every day when the campground is open.”
Bree showed him Alyssa’s driver’s license photo on her phone. “Do you recognize her?”
He squinted at the image. “She looks familiar. I think she rented a campsite last summer. Not a cabin, but a tent site. Is she the person who was trespassing in cabin twenty?”
“Yes. Do you remember any issues with her when she stayed here?”
“No.” He went to the desk, sat, and opened a slim laptop. Still cradling one hand, he touched a key and woke his computer. “I brought my records just in case you needed them.”
“Tha
nk you.”
“What is her name?” His hand poised over the keyboard.
“Alyssa Vincent.”
He tapped on his touchpad a few times, then scrolled. “Here she is. She rented a site for the whole season. Paid cash at the beginning of every week.”
“She is the woman who reported the shooting early Monday morning.”
“Do you know who got shot yet?” Phil asked.
“No. We haven’t found the shooter or the victim,” Bree said.
“That’s weird.” He scratched his belly and closed the laptop.
Next Bree showed him two images copied from the surveillance tape at Walmart. The first one showed the jawline of the man Alyssa claimed was the shooter. Bree compared the photo to Phil, but his facial hair obscured his jawline. The second picture was a close-up of the mark on his hand. “Does this man look familiar?”
He got up from his chair, moved closer, and leaned over her phone. “I don’t know. You can’t see his face.”
“What about this?” Bree pointed to the Texas-shaped red mark on the man’s hand. “Have you seen it before?”
Phil shook his head. “I’m sorry. No.”
“You said you live on the lake. Did you hear a gunshot yesterday morning before dawn?”
“No.” He lowered his bandaged hand to his side. “When will you take that crime scene tape off the cabins?”
“Did you need to get into them for some reason?”
“No.” He picked at the edge of his bandage. “I wanted to check for damage. This isn’t the first time we’ve had squatters. Sometimes they leave a pretty nasty mess.”
“No,” Bree said. “The girls were actually very clean; there’s nothing more than some residual fingerprint powder in the cabin.”
“You’re sure?” he asked. “Because if there’s damage, I’ll need time to fix it before the season opens.”
“I’m going to give the cabins another look now,” Bree said. “We’ll try to have the scenes released in a day or so.”
“Thank you.” But he didn’t look happy.
See Her Die Page 11
