Rogers paused and looked at her, as if he was seeing her as a cop for the first time.
“But we are in a position of authority, and that comes with the responsibility to never abuse it.”
Well, that sounds lecturey.
But Bree meant every word. She’d spent her childhood living with someone who not only acted on his anger every day but reveled in the fear he generated. It had been a horrible way to live and the reason she strove to maintain control of her emotions. But Rogers looked to be beyond exercise or yoga.
He blinked and resumed his pacing. He was too agitated for anything to sink in.
“I want you to take the rest of the day off,” she said. “Go home. Cool down. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“What? You’re sending me home? But you’re shorthanded.”
How could he be surprised?
“Yes.” Bree stood. “You are having issues. You need to deal with them. Do you have a counselor or therapist?”
“No.” Resentment narrowed Rogers’s eyes and his jaw jutted forward. “Sheriff King—”
“Is no longer here,” Bree interrupted in a calm, firm voice. “I am the sheriff now. I will not run the department the same way. You need to get on board. Or get off. Your choice.” She took a breath. “Go home, Rogers. Get yourself together.”
Clearly, he was not thinking straight. If he said what was on his mind, she had no doubt he would regret it.
Red-faced, he spun and stormed out.
Bree took three deep breaths before leaving her office. She needed a hundred hours of hot yoga to decompress from today.
She found Matt in the break room. He’d helped himself to a cup of coffee. He lifted the pot and shook it in offering.
“Yes, please.”
He handed her the cup. “Well, you can’t say your job is ever boring.”
“Boring would be fine with me.”
Marge stuck her head in the room. “Detective Dane is here. I put her in the conference room and gave her coffee.”
“Thanks, Marge.”
Bree carried her coffee and grabbed a pack of Peanut M&M’s from the vending machine. Matt followed her into the conference room. Detective Dane was draping her coat over the back of a chair. A cup of steaming coffee and a manila folder sat in front of her.
Matt introduced Bree to the detective.
“Thank you for seeing me, Sheriff,” Detective Dane said. “Please call me Stella.”
Bree lifted her candy. “We have vending machines in the break room.”
“No, thank you,” Stella said.
They dropped into seats. Stella opened the folder she’d brought with her. “We’ve had over a dozen residential burglaries in Scarlet Falls in the past six months.”
Bree opened her phone and pulled up the photos of the jewelry in Harper’s bag. “The backpack is in the forensics lab. I didn’t unpack it for fear of smudging fingerprints. As soon as the fingerprint examiner is done, you can have access to it. Take a look at this jewelry.” She handed the phone to Stella.
Stella enlarged the image. “The bracelet looks like one stolen from a house on Scarlet River Drive two weeks ago.”
“Is that on the north side of the river?” Matt asked.
“Yes.” Stella pointed to the bracelet. “That particular piece was a family heirloom. The homeowner was devastated to lose it.” She slid a photo out of her folder. “Here is a picture of the owner wearing it.”
Bree compared the two pictures. “Looks like the same piece, but we’ll need to have a jeweler assess it.”
Matt glanced at the photo. “Was it locked in a safe?”
“No.” Stella shook her head. “It was kept in a box in the woman’s lingerie drawer.”
Matt stroked his beard. “That’s not a very original hiding place.”
“No,” Stella agreed.
“Tell me about the burglaries.” Bree sat back and sipped her coffee.
“Houses were hit between midnight and five a.m.,” Stella began. “We think she must case neighborhoods looking for people on vacation or working the graveyard shift. That bracelet belongs to a nurse who worked nights in the ER.”
“She?” Bree asked. “You’re sure the burglar is a woman?”
“We have an image of her from a security camera at another residence in the area. This house is four doors from the house that was burglarized.” Stella slid a photo from her folder. The black-and-white image showed a woman hurrying down the street. “Her body shape appears female. She is wearing black yoga pants, a tight black jacket, a hat, and a black bandanna tied around her face.”
Bree studied the photo. “Definitely female.” The thief’s hair and face were covered, but she was tall and slim. Bree passed the picture to Matt.
He studied it for a few seconds and frowned. “She hasn’t left any fingerprints behind?”
“No,” Stella said. “She’s careful. In other stills you can see she is wearing black gloves. Nothing large is taken. Cash, jewelry, gift cards, etc. She’s in and out in a few minutes. She goes right to where the valuables are kept as if she can smell them. Then she’s out. Usually, she snatches a few thousand in cash and jewelry from each house.” Stella motioned toward the image of the bracelet. “But she hit the mother lode on Scarlet River Drive. That bracelet alone is worth over eighty thousand dollars.”
“Do any of her victims have security systems?” Bree asked.
“No.” Stella tapped the photo of the thief. “But she doesn’t hit expensive homes. She ignores electronics and credit cards.”
“Anything that can be traced.” Matt’s chair squealed as he leaned back.
“Sounds like she already has information before she goes in,” Bree said.
“We suspect she might have an accomplice. Someone who cases the houses ahead of time.”
“Makes sense,” Matt agreed. “What kind of people walk through houses?”
“Real estate agents. Insurance agents. Repairmen.” Stella shook her head. “We’re cross-referencing companies that have worked on multiple homes that have been burglarized and real estate agents who have had homes for sale in the different neighborhoods.”
“Any luck so far?” Matt asked.
“No,” Stella said. “But the original officers only asked about ‘recent services’ performed in the homes. I’m sending officers out to reinterview the victims and get service records for several months preceding the burglaries. The thief or thieves are highly organized.”
“What about strange vehicles in the neighborhood?” Bree asked.
“A second security camera farther down the street caught this image.” Stella set another picture on the table and showed it to Bree. In it, the burglar climbed into a Toyota 4Runner and drove away.
Bree’s hunger vanished. Her gaze snapped back to the photo of the burglar. Could that be Alyssa? She set aside her M&M’s and dragged both hands down her face.
“What is it?” Stella asked.
“Alyssa Vincent drives a 4Runner.” Bree was alarmed at how much she didn’t want to share the information with the SFPD detective. Had she let herself get personally attached to Alyssa? “It’s sitting in the municipal garage right now. We were supposed to return it to Alyssa tomorrow.”
“Can you hang on to it and her?”
“I can try.” Bree gave Stella a summary of Alyssa’s original 911 call. “But her wallet and keys in the bag of stolen jewelry might buy me a couple of days—unless she lawyers up.” Bree might be able to talk Alyssa into staying, but any competent attorney would advise the girl to walk.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t asked for an attorney,” Matt said. “Either she’s innocent and naive or guilty and overconfident.”
“Then who is the man who followed her at Walmart and was in cabin nineteen today?” Bree rubbed an eye.
“Her partner?” Matt suggested.
Bree lowered her hand and stared at the photo of the thief. She did not want to find out that Alyssa was a burglar, that she’d been p
laying Bree all along. It wasn’t because Bree needed to be right. She’d been wrong plenty of times. Fact: people were weird. Years ago, she’d arrested a guy who stabbed his brother for eating all the garlic knots, and she’d worked a case where a little old lady bludgeoned her husband to death with a brick for not picking up his socks. Bree hadn’t seen that coming. She’d wasted two days interviewing every employee of his accounting firm until the fingerprint match had come in. So, Bree could be wrong. But Alyssa as a criminal just didn’t feel right.
Stella’s jaw went tight. “How do you want to handle the case?”
Part of Bree wanted to take over the whole thing. Admittedly, she wanted to protect Alyssa, but she couldn’t start her relationship off with the Scarlet Falls PD by taking a case after their detective had put months of hard hours into it. “The stolen jewelry is your case, but there’s a good chance it’s related to my homicide. I think we should cooperate.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” The tension eased from Stella’s jawline. “I need to interview Alyssa.”
“Yes, of course. She’s here at the station now. But we need to make a plan for the interview.”
Stella’s eyes narrowed. “A plan?”
“Yes,” Bree said. “Do you have enough evidence to charge Alyssa with burglary?”
“No.”
“I am treating her like a witness. Since she’s homeless, I put her up in a motel last night, but she is jumpy. If we pressure her too hard, I’m afraid she’ll bolt, and we have no legal grounds to hold her.” Bree had been manipulating the girl into staying, something she wasn’t proud of. “Alyssa has no ties to this area. If you spook her, that might be the last we see of her.”
“So, you want to soft-pedal the interview?” Stella didn’t look happy. But then, she’d been chasing a serial burglar for months. She wanted to close her case.
“The goal should be to glean information from Alyssa and keep her, not to get a confession.”
Stella considered her statement for a few seconds. “That makes sense. If she yells for a lawyer, we’re screwed.”
“Which is why I’m not going to mention the fact that the matchbox in Harper’s backpack links her to a murder scene.”
“OK.” Stella tucked her folder under her arm and followed Bree into the interview room.
“This is Detective Dane.” Bree took the chair next to Alyssa.
The detective sat across from her.
Alyssa’s gaze jumped back and forth between them. “Why is she here?”
“We think you might have some information about a burglary case she’s working.”
Alyssa’s head tilted. “Why would you think that?”
“Before we start, I need to read you a statement about your rights.” Bree read from the script, then slid the paper and a pen to Alyssa. “I just need you to sign that you understand.”
“OK.” Alyssa’s hand shook as she picked up the pen. “But why are you reading me my rights? Don’t you do that when you arrest someone? Are you arresting me?”
“No,” Bree said, glossing over the fact that Alyssa’s role had shifted from witness to potential suspect when her possessions were found with stolen property. Witnesses didn’t require Miranda warnings. “But I have to read you this by law. I also need to tell you that we’re being recorded. Just like last time we talked. I don’t want to remember anything wrong.”
“OK.” Alyssa’s thumb went to her mouth, and she bit at the cuticle.
Bree showed her the first photo of the backpack.
“That’s Harper’s! Where did you find it?” Alyssa reached out as if she could touch the actual backpack.
“In the cabin next to the one you were staying in,” Bree said.
Relief smoothed Alyssa’s features. “Now you know I’m telling the truth about Harper.”
Bree pulled up the next photo. “What do you see here?”
“My wallet! My keys!” Alyssa smiled, but the smile didn’t last. Her face sobered. “I can’t believe it.”
“What?” Bree asked.
“See that blue zippered pouch?” Alyssa pointed to the phone.
Bree enlarged the image. “This one?”
“Yeah.” Alyssa sat back and folded her hands in her lap. “Remember when I told you that me and Harper started hanging together because my money got stolen at the shelter?”
“Yes,” Bree said.
Alyssa picked at the skin on her wrist. “My money was in that pouch. Harper must have been the one who stole it. Why would she do that?” The pain in her voice sounded genuine, and it tugged at Bree’s heart.
Bree shook her head. “I don’t know. Why do you think she did it?”
“She wanted more money from me, I guess.” Alyssa looked away. A tear ran down her cheek. “Every time she bought me food, she was using my own money. I’m so stupid. I drove her to work and other places. I thought she was my friend, but she was just using me.”
“Where does Harper work again?” Bree asked.
“Route 51 and Evergreen Road,” Alyssa answered with no hesitation.
Bree shook her head. “We called Master Clean. That’s the name of the company. No one named Harper Scott works there.”
Alyssa’s mouth opened a half inch. “I don’t understand.”
“Where did Harper say she was from?” Bree asked.
“Scarlet Falls.” Alyssa sounded unsure.
Bree leaned closer. “We found no one named Harper Scott living in Scarlet Falls or all of Randolph County.”
Alyssa just stared. “So, she lied about everything?”
Bree tapped her phone awake and showed Alyssa the contents of the backpack again. “Do you see the plastic bags?”
Alyssa glanced down. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you know what’s in them?” Bree angled her head, trying to see Alyssa’s eyes.
“Looks like jewelry.” Alyssa looked up.
Bree sat back and glanced at Stella.
The detective leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “Alyssa, did Harper ever borrow your vehicle?”
“No.” Alyssa’s answer was immediate. “That was my dad’s truck. I would never loan it out.”
“Do you know anyone who lives on Scarlet River Drive?” Stella ran a finger down the edge of her folder.
“No.” With a fearful eye on the folder, Alyssa began to scratch at her scar on her arm.
Stella pulled out the picture of the bracelet. “Do you recognize this?”
Alyssa shook her head, then stopped. “That bracelet was in the picture of the backpack.”
“It was stolen from a house on Scarlet River Drive two weeks ago.” The detective moved the photo a little closer to Alyssa.
Alyssa studied it for a few seconds, then looked at the detective. “Harper had that bracelet in her backpack?”
“Yes.” Stella sat back. “And other stolen jewelry as well.”
“That makes sense, I guess.” Alyssa picked at a scar until it bled. “She stole from me.”
As much as Bree wanted answers, watching the girl struggle was hard.
You’re going soft.
Bree didn’t want to admit it, but helping her sister’s kids work through their grief had changed her.
Stella didn’t miss a beat. She slid the picture of the burglar climbing into the 4Runner across the table. “This is a doorbell camera picture of the thief leaving the scene of the crime.”
Alyssa stared. “Is that my 4Runner?”
Stella shifted forward in her chair and pointed to the black-clad thief. “Do you recognize this person?”
Alyssa’s voice rose. “It looks like Harper.”
The woman also looked like Alyssa.
Alyssa’s brows knitted. “If I had anything worth selling, I wouldn’t have been sleeping in a freezing cold cabin with no water or electricity.”
“Did you ever see Harper with jewelry?” Bree asked.
“No.” Alyssa shook her head, but behind her denial, her brain was working. She
pointed toward the picture of the 4Runner. “When was that picture taken?”
Stella tapped the photo. “Two weeks ago.”
“You can’t see the license plate,” Alyssa said. “You can’t even tell what color it is. How can you be sure it’s mine?”
“It would be a pretty big coincidence, considering the person who drove this vehicle stole a bracelet that was found in a backpack in the cabin next to yours.”
Alyssa stared at the scratches on her arm. “Harper must have taken my vehicle while I was sleeping.”
“Are you a heavy sleeper?” Stella asked.
“I dunno.” Alyssa’s shoulder lifted and fell. Her shoulders slumped. She looked defeated. “I’m really tired. Can I go back to the motel now?”
“Yeah. I’ll have a deputy drive you back.”
Alyssa sighed. “OK.”
Bree herded Alyssa out of the interview room.
“Sheriff, what’s going to happen to me?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Bree wanted to stall this conversation.
“That detective wants to arrest me.”
“She wants to arrest the burglar,” Bree said.
Alyssa sighed. “I feel like everything is out of my control. Like I’m on a roller coaster, and it’s gone off the tracks. All I can do is hold on.”
And hope it doesn’t crash.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Matt watched Bree conclude her interview. In his opinion, Alyssa was holding out, but the girl didn’t exactly act guilty either. They were clearly still missing information. Sitting next to Matt, Todd scribbled notes.
They both stood as Bree walked into the monitoring room.
“What did you think?” she asked them.
“She seemed surprised and angry that Harper stole from her,” Matt said.
“I thought so too,” Todd agreed.
“But I also think there’s more to her story than she’s saying,” Matt added.
“Probably.” Bree turned to Todd. “Any developments?”
“The search on like crimes in the NCIC yielded no open cases of victims who had been shot in the face, then bludgeoned.” Todd pushed his empty chair under the table. The National Crime Information Center was a searchable clearinghouse of crime data. “The background check on Phil Dunlop is done. No criminal record. Taxes are paid up on the campground and his personal residence.”
See Her Die Page 14
