Dead by Sunrise

by Richard Ryker

  He glanced at the trunk. “Selling.”

  Ruby shoved her hands into her pockets. She was trying hard to appear calm.

  Brandon wished he could get a better look at the trunk, but at this point all they had were rumors.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “We know you were selling up in Port Angeles,” Brandon said. “And we know Lauren threatened you.”

  Ruby stood there, staring at her feet. She was probably weighing her options.

  “We have witnesses,” Josiah said.

  She glanced up at him. “To what?”

  “Everything we just talked about,” Brandon said, before Josiah could say more. It didn’t help them to be specific about what they did or didn’t have.

  “You gonna try to bust me for dealing?”

  “Right now, we’re here to talk about the girl,” Brandon said.

  Ruby scratched at the gravel with the tip of her shoe. “Ok, we argued.”

  “About?”

  “That little brat liked to talk big. Accused me of selling to her clients.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “No comment,” she said. Then, “But how would I know who her clients were anyway?”

  “You parked down the street from the methadone clinic.”

  “It’s a free country.”

  “And dealing is a felony,” Josiah said.

  “Anyway, she and her friends were always harassing me.”

  “What friends?” Brandon asked.

  “That boy she was with, and some other girl.”

  She probably meant Justin and Brooke.

  “The night of Lauren’s death, you sold her beer even though she was obviously intoxicated.”

  “I wasn’t going to. But then...”

  “She threatened to turn you in for dealing.”

  “So I gave her the beer.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I told you—”

  “We have the video, Ruby,” Brandon said.

  “Then why ask me?”

  “We’re giving you a chance to tell the truth. For once,” Josiah said.

  Ruby took a moment to consider Josiah, her eyes sliding from his feet to his eyes. “You’re a little young to be a cop, aren’t you? Boy.”

  “Not too young to arrest your ass—”

  “Tell us what happened. Or we will be taking you to the station,” Brandon said.

  Josiah had let Ruby get to him, and if Brandon let it go any further, Josiah would say something stupid.

  “Like you saw in the video, the little slut got into the truck with some guys.”

  “You know the men?”

  “They come in, sometimes.”

  “You were trying to protect them,” Brandon said. “That’s why you didn’t tell me Lauren left with them.”

  “They didn’t do nothing wrong. They’re good people.”

  “One of those ‘good people’ just tried to kill two of my officers.”

  Ruby stared back and Brandon, considering his statement.

  “That has nothing to do with me.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Brandon said. He pulled a notebook out of his back pocket and jotted a few things down.

  Ruby glanced back at her house. “Can I go now?”

  “After Doug Nevins and Derrick Green left. Did Doug return later, by himself?”

  Ruby might be the only person able to provide an alibi for Doug Nevins during the time after the two men had let Lauren out of their truck.

  She didn’t respond.

  “You had a good view of the Forks Inn, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “And you watch everything. The video showed that.”

  “So what?”

  “Did Doug Nevins leave the motel again and head back toward the beach?” Brandon asked. “The truth.”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess or you saw it?”

  She paused, likely considering the consequences of snitching on Nevins.

  “Yes.”

  It was confirmation that Nevins had left the Forks Inn after dropping Derrick Green off. Nevins has gone out after Lauren, alone.

  “Okay, good. He left the motel a second time, by himself. How much longer until he returned?”

  She stared over Brandon’s shoulder, toward the road. This was probably the last place she wanted to be right now.

  “Tell us the truth, Ruby, and we’ll keep out of this.”

  “I don’t know exactly.”

  “Give me an idea.”

  “What time did Doug and Derrick leave with the girl?” Ruby asked.

  “12:17,” Brandon said, recalling the time from the video camera.

  “The first time, after they took the girl, they were gone like twenty minutes.”

  “So, they were back around 12:40.”

  “Probably.

  “And then Doug Nevins left alone.”

  “I don’t know if it really was him—”

  “Okay, you saw the truck leave.”

  She nodded, yes.

  “How long was he gone?”

  “Doesn’t the hotel have a video?” she asked.

  “I need you to tell me,” Brandon said, leaving the question unanswered. She was more likely to be honest if she believed they could catch her in a lie.

  “Right before one.”

  Nevins wandered out, alone, for less than twenty minutes.

  “How do you know?” Josiah asked.

  She squinted at him. “Because I’m off at one. He got back and then my replacement came and I went home. That’s it.”

  “Anything else you’re not telling us?”

  “No.”

  It was bad news for their case against Nevins. Twenty minutes was barely enough time to make it out to the Second Beach parking lot.

  Brandon slid his notebook into his back pocket.

  “If you leave town, Ruby, you need to stop by the station and tell us where you’re going.”

  She stared back at him. “But—”

  “You want to stay out of jail, do what I say.”

  They left her, sulking.

  On the way back to their car, Josiah said. “She’s hiding something.”

  “Right, but what? It could be she doesn’t want us to find out about her dealing.”

  “Maybe that’s why she’s protecting the contract workers—if they’re her customers,” Josiah said.

  “True,” Brandon said. “But more important, we have an issue with the timeline.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If Nevins was back to his hotel by 1 A.M., he probably didn’t kill Lauren Sandoval. The time of death is between two and five.”

  “Time of death—isn’t that sort of a guess?”

  “It’s an estimate. And from what I’ve seen, our coroner Lisa Shipley knows what she’s doing.”

  “Okay, maybe Nevins went back out again after one.”

  “Possible. But we don’t have evidence of that, and it convolutes the timeline.” Brandon visualized himself on the stand, positing that Nevins had made not one, but three trips out that night. It would be too much for a jury to swallow. “We’ll have to wait for the results from the DNA found with Lauren.”

  Was Nevins a scumbag, potential cop killer? Sure. And Brandon would go out of his way to make sure the prosecutor followed through on keeping Nevins in jail for a very long time.

  But that didn’t mean he killed Lauren’s Sandoval.

  Did someone else pick Lauren up on the way back to Second Beach? If she’d been picked up around 12:17, then exited the car not long after that, that still left ten or so miles of drunken stumbling.

  Then, she made it up the sea stack, had a few more beers and was killed.

  If it wasn’t Nevins, who had given Lauren a ride to the beach?

  Brandon made a call to the prosecutor’s office, updating them on the case, including the recent developments with Nevins. They agreed, as much as everyone
hoped Nevins was their man, there just wasn’t the evidence there to prove he killed Lauren. He was still a suspect, and they had plenty to hold him on even without the murder charge.

  And then there was Ruby. Initially, she’d lied about the contractors and Lauren. Why? It was too soon to rule out the others too, especially Lauren’s boyfriend, Adam. He’d known she was cheating on him, and that meant he had a motive to kill her.

  Brandon wouldn’t hold his breath waiting for the DNA from Lauren, or the later request for DNA and fingerprints from the beer cans he’d found. He knew too that most cases were solved through good, old-fashioned detective work. The forensic evidence provided a guide and helped rule out certain suspects. They had a lot of work left to do on this case, and now he was down one officer, thanks to Nolan’s antics.

  Chapter 23

  At five o’clock, Brandon met his dad and Emma in the police station parking lot. They were waiting for him next to his dad’s truck.

  “So,” Brandon asked, “how did it go?”

  “Good,” Emma said.

  “See, Brandon. I’m not half the monster you think I am—”

  “I never said you were a monster.”

  “You thought it.”

  Since when had his dad become such a drama queen? Brandon sighed. “Okay. Anyways—”

  “I told you,” his dad said, elbowing Emma as if they were enjoying an inside joke.

  Emma smiled. “What are we doing for dinner?”

  “We’ll pick up something from the store,” Brandon said.

  Emma hugged her grandpa and Brandon moved to leave, but his dad asked, “How’s work? I heard you had some excitement today.”

  “How’d you hear that?”

  “Police scanner.”

  People still listened to scanners?

  “Didn’t know you spied on the police.”

  “Course I do,” his dad said, holding up his cell. “I’ve got the scanner app on my smart phone. You think I want to lose another son?”

  Listening to a police scanner wouldn’t save anyone’s life. Still, his father’s expression of concern surprised him. It made sense, though, considering what had happened to Eli.

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “No,” Brandon said.

  “Did you get the killer?”

  “Not sure yet. It’s complicated.”

  His father waved a hand at him. “I know, big shot detective stuff.”

  Brandon laughed. “Something like that.”

  “I do watch Forensic Files, you know. I’m not totally ignorant.”

  Everyone was an expert on forensic evidence nowadays, thanks to the plethora of true crime shows on television.

  His dad crossed his arms. “Look, take care of yourself. Okay?”

  “I will.”

  “And watch your back. Not everyone in that department likes you.”

  “Because I’m not Eli?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “Well if they expect me to live up his name—”

  “People liked Eli because he was one of them.”

  Meaning Brandon wasn’t.

  “All I’m saying,” his dad said, “is that you could learn a few things from Eli. Try being more down to earth.”

  Brandon’s favorite topic—how different he and Eli were.

  A spark of anger flickered in his chest. He’d confronted his father about the comparisons to Eli, and it had gone nowhere. There was no point in tilling dead ground. Brandon’s eyes moved to Emma, waiting by his truck. He clicked the key fob, opening the door for her.

  “Thanks again for watching Emma.”

  “I’ll be out of town tomorrow,” his dad said. “Got a doctor appointment in PA.”

  “Everything all right?”

  “Annual checkup. That’s all.”

  “Okay.”

  His dad got in his truck and drove off without another word.

  Brandon shook his head. He’d probably never figure out his father. He’d always been a hard man, on both Brandon and Eli. It was something Eli had been more forgiving about than Brandon, but then again, Eli was the favored son. His dad would never let Brandon forget that.

  Brandon and Emma picked up groceries on the way home. They were both starving and agreed to keep it simple—spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread.

  Brandon’s stomach tightened as they rounded the corner to their street. He hoped to avoid a repeat of the night before, when Misty greeted them with her homemade casserole. Brandon wanted time alone with Emma. He parked the car, glancing across the street at Misty’s house.

  She wasn’t likely to come over any time soon. His last words to Misty were a rejection of her advances. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her around, but rekindling a relationship with everything going on in both of their lives. Not a good idea.

  Half an hour later, Brandon and Emma sat down at the kitchen table.

  “There you go,” he said. “Noodles and sauce separated.”

  “You remembered,” she said, smiling.

  “Hard to believe, I know. It’s been what, a whole week?”

  “Almost two weeks. Do we have parmesan?”

  “I’ll put it on the list,” Brandon said.

  A few minutes into the meal, Brandon said, “You talk to your mom today?” The last time he’d heard Emma and Tori talking, things were going well. No arguing.

  “Yeah. For a few minutes.”

  She sounded non-committal

  Brandon knew better than to press Emma about her relationship with her mom.

  “So how did it go with grandpa today? Be honest.”

  “Fine. He showed me lots of old pictures.”

  “Ah, family photos. Exciting.”

  “Mostly ones of you.”

  “Really?” Brandon didn’t know there were that many photos of him.

  “Then he took me out to lunch. We went to the shooting range too.”

  Brandon raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t be mad. You used to take me too—”

  “I know, but I wished he would have asked me.”

  Emma slurped a noodle, the sauce sticking to her nose.

  They both laughed.

  “Some things never change,” Brandon said. He was thinking of a picture of Emma—one of his favorites. She was three years old, a plate full of spaghetti in front of her, sauce covering her wide, innocent smile.

  “Hey, I’m almost sixteen.”

  Sixteen. Soon she’d be out of the house, and out of his life. No, that wasn’t true. Emma and Brandon had always been close. She’d visit him when she moved away, right?

  “Grandpa is gone tomorrow,” Brandon said. “What are you going to do all day?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I like you being here,” Brandon said. “But I warned you. This is Forks we’re talking about. You can walk from one end of the town to the other in ten minutes and be bored out of your mind.”

  “If I lived here during the school year, I’d have friends.”

  “We talked about that, Em. It’s not an option.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because your school is in Seattle, all of your friends—”

  “What friends?”

  They’d had this conversation a dozen times. Part of being a parent, he’d learned, was patiently repeating yourself, hoping someday your advice would sink in.

  “Come on, Em. You have friends.”

  “I lost Mattye. No one else matters.”

  “I know it’s been hard for you—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  They finished dinner and Brandon took their plates to the sink. He turned to Emma.

  “Okay, but…I’m worried about you.”

  “You’re fine with me making friends here, during the summer?”

  “Depends who it is.”

  “Right. Overprotective-cop-dad tells me to make friends but then needs to approve anyone I find.”

  Brandon picked up a piece of garlic bre
ad and pointed it at Emma. “You’re a smart girl.”

  He ripped off half of the bread in one bite.

  Emma rolled her eyes.

  “If I’m so smart why can’t I choose my own friends?”

  “Okay, fine. But be careful. I don’t know where you’ll find anyone to hang out with around here, anyway.”

  “Misty seems nice.”

  Brandon swallowed hard, the bread sticking in his throat.

  He took a long drink of water.

  “She’s a little old to be your friend.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Didn’t you guys used to date? She seems …interested in you.”

  Brandon and Tori divorced less than a year earlier. It made no sense for Emma to suggest Brandon date someone other than her mother.

  “A long time ago. We’re different people.”

  Emma wiped the corners of her lips.

  “Do you still love mom?”

  Brandon stared back at her, a dozen different answers rolling through his mind, each one with potentially negative consequences.

  “I will always love your mom. We had something special—”

  “But you’re not in love with her?”

  “Em, love is more than feelings.”

  She stood, taking both of their plates. “Never mind.”

  “Em, we should talk about this. About the divorce, if that’s what you need—”

  “No dad, I don’t need more counseling or family meetings about why you and mom can’t live together.”

  Brandon stood. “Okay, just…I’m here for you to talk to—”

  “I know.”

  They did the dishes together in silence. When they finished, Emma asked him if he wanted to play cards. He did, and for the next hour she was back to her normal self, as if the conversation about the divorce had never happened.

  You had to admire the resiliency of the teenage spirit, Brandon thought. But her question about Brandon and Tori revealed something deeper—her desire for Brandon and Tori to reconcile. It was normal for kids to want their parents to get back together. It didn’t mean it was a good idea, though.

  Parenting was hard enough married. Being a single parent half the year would be twice as challenging. He’d have to watch his interactions with Misty. Brandon needed to focus on Emma first and his job second. He had enough on his plate without adding a new relationship to the mix.

  Chapter 24