Dead by Sunrise

by Richard Ryker

  She took a sip of her Bud Light. “No.”

  Brandon scoffed. He didn’t believe her.

  “If I said yes, what would you do? Fire him?”

  “I can think of plenty of reasons to fire Nolan…”

  He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He shouldn’t be talking personnel issues with the girlfriend of one of his officers.

  “He’s not a bad guy.”

  Brandon swallowed a long drink. “I never said he was.”

  He wasn’t interested in talking about work.

  “Sorry about the diner the other day,” she said.

  “What about it?”

  “Neal acting all weird like that. He can be—”

  “You don’t need to explain.” He thought about it for a minute, then said, “But why didn’t you tell me you were with Nolan?”

  “I was going to—”

  “Never mind,” Brandon said. “It’s not my business.”

  Had he misread her at the diner? It seemed to Brandon she’d been flirting. Bringing up their relationship, asking Brandon if he was available.

  “Hey,” she said, resting her hand on his knee. “Forgive me?”

  “For?”

  She turned toward him. Even in the twilight, he was drawn to the deep, dark hue of her brown eyes. Brown Eyed Girl, that was the song he used to sing to her.

  She was too close.

  “For everything,” she said. “All the dumb things I ever did.”

  He’d been watching her lips. Now, his eyes rose to meet hers, and it was like they were eighteen again, sitting on her mom’s front porch.

  Why did everything remind him of an old song?

  Because he was getting older. Too old to waste time.

  He leaned in.

  This was just like when they were kids. When he went off to boot camp and by the time he got back she was with someone else.

  After all those years together.

  And now she was dating Nolan.

  What was he thinking?

  He gazed into her eyes again.

  Screw it. Why not relive the past, just tonight?

  His lips had just brushed against hers when a car rounded the corner onto his street. He pulled back, turned to see who it was.

  The car drove slowly, deliberately, as if searching for something. It edged up to Brandon’s truck. There were no driveways on his street, so everyone parked next to the curb.

  Brandon squinted as he saw two figures approach. He stood, setting his beer down behind him.

  “Dad!”

  Emma ran up to the porch, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve been trying to call you all day,” Tori said.

  Brandon reached for his pocket. He’d forgotten his personal cell at work, plugged into the charger. He had his department phone, but Tori and Emma didn’t know that number yet.

  “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

  Tori stopped short, her eyes landing on Misty.

  “Oh. Hi.”

  “Hi,” Misty said.

  “I guess that explains why you didn’t return my calls,” Tori said.

  Misty stood. “I’d better get going.”

  All three of them watched Misty cross the street to her house.

  “Getting to know the neighbors?” Tori asked.

  “I already knew her.”

  Tori’s eyebrows rose in twin arches. “Really?”

  They were divorced now. Who cared if he dated? And he wasn’t dating anyone, so—

  “Ah. I get it,” Tori said. “That must be the infamous Misty.”

  Like most men, Brandon had made the mistake of sharing too much about his exes.

  “Knock it off, mom,” Emma said.

  “Don’t talk to me like that. I’ve had enough of your disrespect.”

  “Dammit,” Brandon said. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

  They both stared back at him.

  “Alright. Come inside.”

  Brandon closed the door behind them.

  “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Emma said. “We don’t get along.”

  “She said she would hitchhike if I didn’t take her. I caught her walking toward the highway.”

  Brandon pointed a finger at Emma. “Not okay. Not even close to okay.”

  “I wasn’t going to actually do it.”

  Tori sighed, crossing her arms.

  “You’re supposed to bring her in two weeks,” Brandon said. “I’m in the middle of a murder investigation.”

  “What’s new?” Tori said.

  “The point is, the house isn’t ready.”

  Emma scanned the room, taking in the moving boxes, empty takeout containers and cans of soda and beer. “Looks fine to me,” she said.

  Brandon took Tori’s hand. “We need to talk.”

  Outside, Brandon asked, “What’s going on Tori?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. She hates me.”

  “Emma doesn’t hate you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “You don’t know.”

  Tori put a hand over her face, folding her arms across her chest.

  “She’s just upset. A lot happened this year. Her friend died. We got divorced.”

  Tori glanced across the street toward Misty’s house. “You seem to have moved on.”

  There was a sadness in her voice. He should be angry with her for driving Emma all the way out here without warning. But they’d raised Emma together for fifteen years. Not long ago, Emma and Tori had been best friends, and Brandon had felt like the one left out.

  He wrapped his arms around Tori. She leaned into him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll take care of her. A little separation might make things better.”

  She sniffled. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

  He smiled. “Right.”

  She pulled back. “I’ll try to get ahold of myself. I have her things.”

  They unloaded the car while Emma explored the house. When they finished, they found her in the living room watching a Food Network show.

  “Tell your girlfriend I’m sorry…” Tori said.

  “She’s dating one of my officers.”

  “Oh,” Tori said, a glint of relief in her eyes. “Well, anyway.”

  “You sure you don’t want to stay here tonight?” Brandon asked. “It’s late, and it’s a four-hour drive back home.”

  Tori’s gaze slid down the hallway to Brandon’s room, his bed on the floor. She gave him a wry smile. “I’d better not.”

  Tori walked over to the recliner where Emma had already settled in. Tori reached down and hugged her. “Love you.”

  “You too,” Emma said, her attention locked on the television.

  “Take care of her,” Tori said.

  “I will.”

  Brandon thought back to Phoenix Weaver’s tarot card warning about family trouble and an unexpected visitor. Her accuracy was uncanny, coincidence or not. Whatever Phoenix might say about Brandon’s future, he hoped she was wrong about the work of dark forces in Forks.

  Brandon shook his head. There wasn’t time for speculation on the existence of the occult in his jurisdiction. He had a daughter to raise, a department to manage and a murder to solve.

  Chapter 15

  Brandon let Emma have his bed and he slept out on the recliner. His neck and back were stiff by the time he heaved himself out of the old chair at six thirty in the morning. He left Emma twenty dollars and a note telling her she could order a pizza for lunch. There were eggs and bread she could use to make herself breakfast.

  He didn’t want her wandering around town alone, but just in case he made sure she had the pepper spray he’d bought her back in Seattle. Emma didn’t know Forks, and even small towns have areas that were better to avoid. Not to mention, there was a murderer on the loose.

  Brandon and Jackson arrived in Sequim aro
und mid-morning. Brandon hoped to interview Lauren’s mother. Then, they would stop by Adam’s work and ask him a few follow-up questions, considering the new evidence they had. If they had time, they might stop by Lauren’s work, too.

  Jackson drove, giving Brandon a chance to call Lisa Shipley to get an update on the DNA results.

  “Any chance they’ll expedite the report on the semen found with Lauren?” Brandon asked Lisa.

  “I’ll check with the lab.”

  Clallam County used the state patrol crime lab, so Brandon knew it was out of Lisa’s hands.

  “I won’t hold my breath,” he said. “Anything you can do helps.”

  “Speaking of holding your breath, I’m still waiting for you to tell me about why you came back to Forks.”

  Brandon recalled the conversation they’d had on the beach the day they found Lauren. He glanced at Jackson. She couldn’t hear what Lisa had said, but it put Brandon in a bind. He wasn’t about to set a date with the coroner in front of one of his officers.

  “Yeah. Sure. That’d be great. I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

  She paused. “Okay.”

  Brandon hung up.

  “What was that about?” Jackson asked.

  “Just getting an update from the coroner.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?” Brandon demanded.

  She turned to him.

  “The exchange at the end there was a little…awkward.”

  Brandon pointed ahead. “Keep your eyes on the road. And mind your own business.”

  Jackson turned back to the road, making no effort to hide the smart-ass smile that crossed her face now.

  Sequim was about twenty minutes east of Port Angeles, part of the Olympic Rain Shadow. It was a popular West Coast retirement community for Californians fleeing expensive, overpopulated cities for life in the beautiful Pacific Northwest—sans the rainfall. The difference between Forks and Sequim was striking: one-hundred-nineteen inches of rainfall per year in Forks versus sixteen in Sequim.

  While the influx of retirees from across the west helped the tax base, not all locals were happy about the newcomers. The easiest way to spot an out-of-towner was the way they pronounced the city’s name. Outsiders would ask about see-quim, pronouncing the name as it is spelled; but the correct pronunciation was squim, like squid with an ‘m’ at the end.

  Lauren’s mother lived in a remodeled turn of the nineteenth century two-story, dark blue with a white picket fence surrounding a healthy patch of grass. Rose bushes lined the inside of the fence, the flowers in their full glory, red, white and pink.

  It was too happy a picture for what Lauren’s family must be going through.

  Brandon knocked on the door and Lauren’s mother, a Latina woman in her forties answered. She glanced at their uniforms, then seemed to recognize Brandon from the night he’d notified her of Lauren’s death. Without a word, she led them to a room with a couch and two chairs.

  Brandon and Jackson sat on the couch, Lauren’s mother across from them. On the wall were photos of Lauren, ranging from baby pictures to elementary school, junior high, and prom. Brandon knew from his previous visit that Lauren’s father had left the home when Lauren was fifteen. The family hadn’t heard from him since then.

  “Mrs. Sandoval,” Brandon said. “This is Officer Jackson.”

  Her eyes were swollen, raw with grief.

  “I want to say again how sorry we are about Lauren,” Jackson said.

  Mrs. Sandoval’s vacant stare seemed stuck on the cushion between Brandon and Jackson.

  “I talked to the coroner when I identified Lauren,” she said.

  Brandon hoped Lisa Shipley hadn’t shared too much. Facts were facts, but could be misinterpreted by the public.

  “She said Lauren didn’t drown. That she had fallen and was—”

  There was a tissue box on the table next to the couch. Jackson pulled two out and handed them to Mrs. Sandoval. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing the words out. “That she was already dead by the time she went into the water.”

  Mrs. Sandoval eyed Brandon. “Is that true?”

  “It would seem so, yes,” he said.

  They were all silent.

  After a moment, Mrs. Sandoval said, “Lauren was a beautiful girl. Smart. The kindest person. Always wanted to help people. That’s why she became a counselor.”

  “She worked at the methadone clinic?” Jackson asked.

  “Lauren did counseling with addicts there. It’s not just handing out medication, you know? They do help people. Talk to them. That was her passion.”

  “Did Lauren ever struggle with addiction herself?” Brandon asked. Lauren had consumed a significant amount of alcohol the day she died.

  “In the past, when she was younger.”

  “How long ago?” Brandon asked.

  “After her father left. She started drinking, and worse. But she got clean. Went to school.”

  It seemed Lauren’s mother was unaware of Lauren’s ongoing struggle with alcohol abuse. Like many addicts, Lauren had probably worked hard to hide the truth from her mother.

  “How well did you know Adam, Lauren’s boyfriend?” Brandon asked.

  Mrs. Sandoval glanced at Brandon, then Jackson. “Did he do this to her?”

  “We’re just starting our investigation, Mrs. Sandoval.”

  “You suspect him?”

  “Is there a reason you believe Adam might hurt Lauren?”

  “I don’t know. I met him once or twice. I think they weren’t dating for that long. He seemed like a nice young man. Strait laced. But…I’m her mother. I should have known.”

  She began sobbing, and they waited for Mrs. Sandoval to compose herself again.

  “This isn’t your fault,” Jackson said.

  “Is there anything about Adam that concerned you?”

  She neatly folded the tissue. For a moment, Brandon figured she must not have heard him. Finally, she answered, “No.”

  “Anyone else? An ex-boyfriend?”

  “Everyone loved my Lauren.”

  “What about at work? One of the clients?” Jackson asked.

  “Sometimes people would get mad at her. Like if she had to report them for relapsing. There are rules, you know. If someone is on probation.”

  “No specific threats?”

  “No,” she said. Then, “Wait. There was a woman. A drug dealer trying to sell to her clients. Lauren confronted the lady, told her to stay away from the clinic.”

  The story about a woman selling drugs near the clinic confirmed what Brooke had said about Ruby.

  “Did anything come of that?”

  “Lauren was furious, threatened to turn her in to the police. I don’t know what happened after that.”

  “Anything else you can think of that might be helpful?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I want to let you know, we have every officer involved in this investigation.”

  “Tell me, what do you know about what happened to my daughter? I have to know.”

  He weighed how much to reveal. He imagined what it would be like if Emma had been the victim, and how he’d feel being helpless, sitting at home waiting for a stranger to bring his daughter’s killer to justice.

  “The coroner is in charge of finding any clues left with Lauren when she died. We think she might have been pushed off of a cliff or one of the sea stacks.”

  “Why would someone do that to Lauren?”

  “That’s my job to find out. We’ve been interviewing her friends. Adam, Brooke, and Justin,” Brandon said.

  “Who is Justin?”

  “Brooke’s boyfriend.”

  She nodded.

  “Have you met Brooke? I gather she and Lauren were close.”

  “Once. A couple of months ago,” Mrs. Sandoval said with something like a sneer.

  “You didn’t like her?” Jackson asked.

  “She reminded me of a snotty rich girl.”r />
  Interesting observation. Brandon wouldn’t have characterized Brooke that way.

  “Okay. And we do know at some point during the night Lauren went from her campsite into town.”

  “Alone?”

  “It appears that way, but she did get a ride. We’re not sure what happened between then and when she was found.”

  “Was my daughter raped?” she asked in a matter-of-fact tone. “The coroner wouldn’t say.”

  “I’ll leave it up to Lisa…the coroner to determine that.”

  There was no need to go over the presence of semen or the DNA evidence with the girl’s mother. They were still waiting for results.

  He changed the topic. “Take a look at this for me,” he said, pulling out his phone. She clicked on the picture of the necklace he’d found at the beach.

  “Did you ever see Lauren wearing this?”

  “No. That’s not hers.”

  “Not familiar at all?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  “Okay. That’s all for now. Please let us know if you think of anything else.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Sandoval said. She turned to Jackson. “You said you wanted to help me. Then find the person who did this to my daughter.”

  “We will,” Brandon said, stopping short of a promise.

  Chapter 16

  “Where to now?” Jackson asked.

  “Lunch. Then I’d like to have a few words with Adam. And I want to follow up on this lead about the dealer.”

  “You think it’s Ruby?”

  “Sounds like it.”

  Brandon had asked Will and Josiah to contact Ruby and ask her about her history with Lauren.

  Brandon called Will on his phone and asked if they’d been able to get ahold of Ruby. They’d gone out to her house, but no one answered. He told them to keep trying.

  They stopped at the Taco Time in Sequim.

  Brandon ordered a taco salad, because it sounded healthy. But he knew it wouldn’t fill him up, so he got a deep-fried burrito to go with it. So much for losing weight.

  He hadn’t brought any of his workout equipment with him to Forks. It had been in storage for years thanks to an annual membership at a local fitness club. But that was back in Seattle. He’d have to find a gym, or his health would go down the crapper.