“I interviewed the mom and the girls who found her,” Josiah said. His gaze darted away from the body.
“You might as well get used to it,” Brandon said.
“What?”
“A dead body.”
Brandon considered Josiah’s buzz cut and slight build. He looked more like a kid in his first week of boot camp than an officer investigating a crime scene.
“I’m not—”
“Here,” Brandon said, waving him closer. Josiah edged forward.
“Bite marks?”
“You notice anything else?” Brandon asked.
Josiah glanced sideways at the girl’s face. She had to be only a few years younger than him.
“Her muscles. They’re stiff.”
“Rigor mortis,” Brandon said.
“That means she’s been dead at least twelve hours. Less than twenty-four,” Josiah said.
The kid had paid attention at the academy.
“But she’s been in the water for a while, so that changes everything,” Brandon reminded him.
“Oh yeah, I remember that now,” Josiah said.
“What do you think?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, I’m asking you.”
“I mean, the cut on the head means she fell or maybe was hit. And there’s the bite marks, but some people are into that.”
“Into what?”
“You know, all that vampire stuff. That’s what we’re famous for.”
“Those are just books,” Brandon said.
“Have you seen the freaks we get around here?” Josiah said. “Some of them, you know, dress up, act it out. It’s a thing.”
The world was full of strange, sometimes very sick people. He’d just never imagined them out here, far from the big city where most of them congregated.
If this was the work of a vampire-obsessed murderer, then Brandon had grossly underestimated the impact of the Moonbeam Darklove craze on his once-peaceful hometown.
Chapter 3
When the coroner arrived twenty minutes later, Brandon let Josiah get back to his regular beat.
“Lisa Shipley,” the coroner said. “Traffic was hell.”
Lisa was in her late thirties and had blonde hair with a purple stripe down one side. She wore khaki shorts, hiking boots, and a button-up shirt.
Brandon glanced down at her bare ring finger, then caught himself.
“Road construction?” Brandon asked.
“Yep,” she said, extending a hand. “This is my tech, Michael.”
Michael was probably in his early sixties. He twisted the cap off his camera, eager to photograph the scene.
“Brandon Mattson, new Chief of Police over in Forks. Tribal called us in on this one.”
“What do we have?” Lisa asked, pulling on a pair of gloves.
“Two kids found her. Washed up on the beach,” Brandon said.
“Any witnesses?”
“No,” Brandon said. “There’s a gash on the crown of her head and a bite on her neck.”
“Bite?”
“Looks human. But…”
She moved in closer. “Vampire teeth.”
“You’ve seen this before?” Brandon asked.
“Once. Not here. When I worked in Salt Lake.”
Lisa moved aside as Michael captured the puncture wounds.
“Let’s take a look at the rest of her,” Lisa said.
Carefully, they turned the girl over.
Several long scratches furrowed the girl’s back. The bottom of her bikini was torn but intact.
“Looks like she’s been dragged across jagged rocks,” Brandon said.
“After she died. There’s not much bruising. Minimal livor mortis,” she said, referring to the process of blood pooling under the skin when someone remained unmoved after death. That meant the body wasn’t in one position long before it went into the ocean. Being tossed back and forth by the waves, in combination with the cold water would prevent livor mortis, or at least slow it.
If she had been dragged, and especially if it occurred after death, that meant she was probably killed, and the murderer wanted to cover up what he’d done.
Lisa took the girl’s body temperature. After making some preliminary notes, they prepared her for the trip to Port Angeles, where Lisa could finish her investigation.
They checked the girl’s pockets for a cell phone or any identification. There were none.
They loaded the girl into the coroner’s transport vehicle. Michael got in and started the engine. Lisa closed the van’s back door.
“First impressions?” Brandon asked.
“Everything is impacted by the water. Assuming she was out there for a while.”
“Right.”
“I’ll know more by tomorrow, but I’d say around twelve hours ago is a good start for time of death. The scratches tell me someone dragged her after she died. Why there’s a bite mark…I have no idea. That’s your department. Motive and all that.”
He liked Lisa. She knew her stuff but stayed in her own lane.
She snapped the blue latex gloves off and held them in one hand.
“So, how’s your new job treating you?” she asked.
He smiled back at her. “First day.”
“Welcome to Clallam County. It’s not always this bad,” she said, nodding toward the van where the young woman’s body lay.
“I’m from around here. Grew up in Forks,” he said.
She rose an eyebrow. “And you came back?”
“Long story. Divorce, family. All that.”
“Maybe you can tell me about it sometime,” Lisa said.
Brandon’s response caught in this throat. Flirting wasn’t his thing. At least it hadn’t been for the past ten years. He’d chalk that up to another reason his marriage had failed.
Lisa’s face reddened at Brandon’s lack of response.
He tried to recover. “I can. I will. Sometime.”
Dammit.
She nodded. “I’ll call you with an update.”
Brandon shook off the awkward conversation. There was plenty of work to do without complicating things so soon after his divorce.
The evidence pointed toward murder and a cover-up. With no missing person’s report matching the girl’s description, the bite marks, and a town full of wannabe vampires, it would take some time getting to the bottom of this case.
Once the public learned about the circumstances around the girl’s death there would be a general hysteria about the undead or similar nonsense. That wasn’t the worst of his worries though. There was most likely a murderer out there. One brazen enough to leave a bite mark—meaning evidence, possibly even saliva—on a young woman’s neck before tossing her into the sea.
Brandon climbed into his truck and slipped the key in the ignition. His phone rang. It was his daughter, Emma.
“Hey sweetie.”
“Hi dad. You ready to come back home yet?” she asked.
Brandon and his ex, Tori, had agreed on an every-other-weekend and all-summer parenting plan. Emma was almost sixteen and spent little time at home as it was. It had only been a few days and Brandon already missed the few minutes a day he saw his daughter.
“I’ll see you in two weeks,” he said.
They’d just gotten back from a father-daughter road trip to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. Unlike her mother, Emma loved the outdoors, camping and fishing.
“Why not now?”
“I’ve got to get the house ready, Em.”
“Ok fine, but mom is driving me crazy.”
Brandon knew better than to meddle in their mother-daughter conflicts. He’d tried to play peacemaker before, only to end up in the doghouse with of them.
“You need to work that out with her, sweetie.”
“Alright,” she said.
“Is there something else going on?”
Emma’s best friend had died during the school year. She’d taken it hard, but had seemed better the last several mont
hs.
It didn’t help that Brandon’s mother and brother had both passed in the last year, too.
Tori claimed Brandon had a hard time dealing with death. Brandon had grieved for both of them, especially Eli. Just because he hadn’t resorted to self-pity and public weeping didn’t mean he wasn’t affected. He was a homicide detective. Of course he knew how to deal with death.
In his own way.
Emma needed more than pat answers, so Brandon had done his best to be there for her, to listen.
“I’m fine,” Emma insisted.
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“I love you, Em.”
“You too.”
Had he made a mistake moving away from Seattle? Emma needed him.
But he would see her just as much now as he would if he lived in the city.
In just two weeks’ time she’d stay with him for the summer.
He didn’t know how she’d stay busy in a town as small as Forks. There wasn’t much to do except get in trouble.
But he had to remind himself that Emma wasn’t him.
At the end of summer, she’d head back to Seattle for her junior year of high school.
Junior year? God, where had the years gone?
Just outside Forks, Brandon slowed the truck to a stop, the late afternoon sun glinting off the sign he’d been looking for. He read the marker: Eli Mattson Memorial Highway.
This last stretch of road between La Push and Forks was dedicated to Brandon’s brother. Eli had been an officer with Forks PD and an extra-duty sheriff’s deputy. Early one Sunday morning, he’d pulled over a late-model Honda for speeding and expired tabs. The occupants, according to detectives, were an unknown man and woman. They’d unloaded four rounds into Eli as he approached to ask for identification. Police found the Honda abandoned not far from the scene, and one witness claimed to have seen the man and woman fleeing into the nearby forest.
Brandon had viewed the blurry dashcam video a hundred times, memorized the license plate, the almost indistinct shapes of his brother’s murderers, the passenger pulling the trigger, leaving Eli to die by the roadside.
Brandon had kept in touch with the detectives leading the investigation. Despite his frustration with their lack of progress, they’d assured him they knew what they were doing.
Eventually, Eli’s murderers would be brought to justice. Brandon would make sure of it.
Chapter 4
The mayor had scheduled a meeting with Brandon for six that evening. In the meantime, he caught up on the growing list of emails he’d already received his first day on the job. Then, he brought in a few things from his truck: a picture of Emma and a handful of books he’d never read but would look good on the shelf.
When he finished, he skimmed Josiah’s report. The only witnesses with any real information were the two sisters who had discovered the body. Not much to go on and still no ID on the girl.
The mayor’s office was across the parking lot from city hall in a two-room portable. The newly hired mayor wanted separation from the rest of city government and had ordered construction of the new space. Her receptionist had already gone home but the mayor’s door was open, and she sat at her desk typing. Brandon tapped on the door.
Mayor Sara Kim stood and smiled. She wore a navy-blue dress with a red scarf. He’d read about Mayor Kim in a couple of online articles. She was a first-generation Korean American hell-bent on making a name for herself. Just last year she’d beat Spencer Wilson, who’d been mayor for sixteen years. She’d won by promising to bring more jobs and money to Forks through increased tourism. She’d even convinced the city to make the mayor’s job a paid position—a first for Forks.
“Brandon. Have a seat.”
She motioned to an expensive looking mahogany table off to one side of the room. Mayor Kim slid into the chair next to him. She crossed her legs, the point of her bright red shoe centimeters from Brandon’s knee.
“You getting settled in?”
Brandon frowned. “Unfortunately.”
Her eyebrows arched in a question.
“We had a drowning in La Push,” Brandon said.
“Isn’t that tribal land?”
“They asked for our help. It’s not clear she drowned there.”
She tapped her pen against the table. “Does the media know?”
Someone dies, and she’s worried about the press?
“Not that I know of,” Brandon replied.
“A local?”
“Not sure yet. She’s a young woman, early twenties.”
He didn’t mention the bite marks on the woman’s neck, or that it might be a homicide. He’d had learned as a detective to never offer the details of a case with the uppity ups until you got your facts in a row.
He’d wait until he heard back from the coroner before sharing anything further with the mayor.
She folded her hands together on the table and leaned forward. “You think I’m insensitive.”
Brandon stared back at her without answering.
“My job is to make sure this town thrives,” she said.
“What’s that got to do with a young woman drowning?”
“Tourism, Chief Mattson. It’s what keeps people working. And paying taxes. More taxes mean revenue to pay for more officers, better police cars—”
“I get it.”
His stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. If he had to listen to the mayor talk about taxes in the context of a young girl’s death, he’d probably lose his appetite. Then he’d really be in a bad mood.
“What did you want to meet with me about, Mayor Kim?”
She leaned back. “You can call me Sara.”
Brandon nodded.
“I’m assuming you know who Tiffany Quick is?” she asked.
“She’s the author of that vampire book.”
“The Moonbeam Darklove Series,” she reminded him.
“Right.”
“She’s a New York Times best-selling author.”
“Not really my thing.”
Emma had started the series, but lost interest when it was clear the plot hinged on a kissy-face love triangle.
“You can’t argue with success.”
Brandon’s gaze caught on the framed Northwest BusinessWoman magazine photo on the wall behind her. A confident Sara Kim graced the cover, the declaration, “Bringing a Town Back from the Brink” beneath her.
“What’s this got to do with the police?” Brandon asked.
“In two weeks, Ms. Quick will visit our town for the first time. She’s the guest of honor at this year’s Moonbeam Festival.”
Brandon had read somewhere that the author hadn’t ever visited Forks. She’d done all of her research online.
“You’re expecting a greater than usual number of tourists.”
“That’s right.”
“Are you anticipating trouble?”
Sara’s forehead furrowed. “Fans of Tiffany Quick are no different from you or me, Brandon.”
Except the ones that don black capes and vampire fangs.
“I’ll need to know locations and times of any events,” Brandon said. “Expected turn out. This will cost us in overtime.”
“The festival is just two weeks from today. With the increased revenue from sales tax, overtime won’t be a problem.”
Taxes and tourists. She was a broken record.
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Just a reminder, Chief Mattson. If we keep the visitors to our town happy, our citizens benefit.”
Brandon had dealt with his fair share of elected officials. He could tell when they were trying to say something without really saying it.
“Mayor, we’ll get along a lot better if you’re up front with me.”
She pursed her lips, accentuating the frown lines that must have formed over years of worrying about how to get ahead of everyone else.
“I can appreciate that,” she said. The mayor stood and Brandon followed suit.<
br />
“One more thing,” she said.
He could tell he wasn’t going to like it, whatever it was.
“Yes?”
“Some officers in your department have a history of making our guests feel unwelcome.”
“You have examples?”
“Overzealous enforcement of certain traffic laws.”
“The law is the law—”
“Harassing some of our marijuana tourists.”
Brandon’s lips curled as he stifled a laugh. Marijuana had only been legal in the state for a few years. People from across the country were no doubt flocking to the town to get stoned while dressed up like Count Dracula.
Brandon had noticed a marijuana store on the edge of town. Pot stores were legal, but some cities and towns had made it nearly impossible for the sellers to set up shop within city limits. The presence of the store in Forks meant the mayor supported it.
“With all due respect, mayor, enforcing the law—for all citizens—is the responsibility of the police department.”
“Understood. And you’ll remember that you have a job here because I hired you.”
“To enforce the law.”
Brandon held her gaze for several seconds.
“Good enough. For now,” she said, returning to her desk. “Good evening, Police Chief Mattson.”
He opened his mouth to bid her goodbye, but she was already back to typing.
Before he’d accepted the chief position, Mayor Kim had promised Brandon she’d stay out of his way, let him deal with the town’s police business. Now, he wondered if she were capable of that. She was driven, and like many people with that trait, she would be blind to the idea that not everyone she met was aiming at the same target as her.
Brandon didn’t have the luxury of minding other people’s business. He had enough to worry about, not just the everyday tasks like finding new officers and running a department, but the potential murder case he’d just agreed to help solve.
Brandon stood in the parking lot and considered heading back to his office.
The paperwork would be there tomorrow. He climbed into his truck and started the engine.
When he’d left Seattle earlier that morning, he’d figured the biggest challenge facing him today would be pulling off his first team meeting as chief. Instead, he had a potential homicide and a mayor bent on inviting as many vampire-obsessed Moonbeam Darklove fans into her town as possible, no matter what the cost.
Dead by Sunrise Page 2
