Dead by Sunrise

by Richard Ryker

  “Sir, are you Chief Mattson?” Cherise asked as he drove past.

  Brandon drove through the gate, letting it slide shut so that they were separated from the reporters. He told Jackson, “Take Brooke around back.”

  There was no reason to reveal who they were questioning. If Brooke was innocent, why expose her to the inevitable negative attention that came with being a suspect in a murder investigation?

  Jackson jumped into the driver’s seat while Brandon approached the news crew.

  As much as he despised Ted, he’d had a point. By not addressing the media directly, he’d left them up to their own imaginations. That had happened with Ted.

  “How can I help you?” he asked.

  “Chief Mattson?”

  “That’s me.”

  “We’d like to get an update on the double homicide here in Forks.”

  “Are you recording?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” Cherise said. “You willing to give us an interview? We received a tip you were bringing a suspect in.”

  “You drove all the way out from Seattle for that?”

  “We were coming out already. There’s more on the way. We saw KOMO up in Port Angeles.”

  “Thanks for the head’s up. Just curious. Who tipped you we were bringing someone in?” Brandon asked.

  “Some local reporter.”

  “Hoping to get on your good side?”

  “Probably. You ready to start recording?”

  “Go,” Brandon said. This wasn’t his first time briefing the press on a homicide case.

  He wasn’t ready for the first question.

  “What is your response to reports of a lack of confidence in your leadership?”

  “I’ve addressed this with my staff, and I’ve been reassured that we are all on the same page.”

  He wasn’t counting Nolan since the rogue officer wasn’t part of the department any longer.

  “What about those that say you aren’t charging the real culprit in this case?” she asked.

  “None of those people has over a dozen years working homicide. I do.”

  “You’re relying upon your reputation as proof you’re making the right decision?”

  “You see, Cherise. That’s the problem. I haven’t made a decision yet. I won’t until it’s clear we have our person. The last thing we need, be it in Seattle or a small town like Forks, is to have citizens falsely accused, their lives ruined, while the real killer goes free.”

  “Thanks, Chief,” Cherise said. “A couple of questions about the case?”

  “You know I can’t say much at this stage,” he reminded her.

  “Understood. Maybe just a summary.”

  Cherise nodded and Brandon outlined the basic facts of the case, mentioning only that Ruby was a suspect, but there were a few more leads they were following up on.

  She handed him her card. “Let me know if anything changes? We’ll be in the area.”

  “Will do,” Brandon said, wishing Forks had reporters like Cherise. Instead, he had the likes of Ted Nixon.

  Back in the station, Jackson had already finished with Brooke’s DNA sample. He returned with Jackson to the interview room.

  “You ready?” Brandon asked Brooke.

  “I thought you had to ask me more questions,” she said.

  “I think we’re good for now. Like the officer here said, you’ve been through enough.”

  She gave him a half-smile.

  “How long will it take to prove my saliva isn’t on the bite marks?” Brooke asked.

  “Days, maybe weeks,” he said. “If we even get any saliva off Justin.”

  “Like someone might have wiped it off?”

  “Exactly.”

  Jackson took the girl back to her aunt’s house. Brandon and Jackson met up just outside of town.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Fine. The aunt was still complaining about police incompetence.”

  “Sorry I missed that,” Brandon said. “Any news media there?”

  “Not one.”

  “Alright. I’m late for dinner. Have a good shift.”

  “Hey chief,” Jackson said. “Back when we were first talking to the girl and her aunt, the girl asked if we were trying to find out if her saliva was on the victim’s bite wounds.”

  “Right.”

  “And I was about to add that we could check against the cans you found.”

  “I know that’s what you were about to tell her.”

  “And you stopped me. I get it. You don’t want her to know.”

  “We have to tell her something, and the bite marks are the most obvious. The beer cans…not so much. Never let a suspect know everything you know.”

  “Because if she was on the sea stack that night, she might have refused the DNA test.”

  “You know what, Jackson. I’d dub you lead detective,” Brandon said.

  “Really?”

  “If there was such a thing in Forks.”

  “Wow. Thanks.”

  “Someday…”

  “Someday indeed. Have a good night, chief.”

  Brandon started the truck’s engine. The digital clock read 6:15. There was no way he’d make it to his date with Lisa.

  He could ask his dad to take Emma home.

  Brandon wasn’t in the mood to ask his dad for anything after their confrontation at lunch. In fact, Brandon wasn’t in the mood for anything but to see his daughter for a bit and forget about work for a while.

  He pulled out his phone and typed a text to Lisa: Can’t make it. Work to do.

  Except he wasn’t going to work. Why start out with a lie? He retyped the text: Can’t make it. Too much going on.

  That was the truth.

  She responded thirty seconds later: No problem. Take care.

  Emma came rushing out of her grandpa’s house.

  “It’s about time,” she said.

  He studied her face. Was she upset again? She didn’t seem to be.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just thinking how much I love you,” he said.

  She punched him in the arm. “Stop being weird.”

  Brandon grinned. “Is it weird to say I love my daughter?”

  He moved toward the SUV.

  “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to grandpa?” Emma asked.

  The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Was he really that disconnected from his father? Or just trying to avoid the fallout from the argument they’d had earlier in the day, his dad trying to tell him how to run his department. Taking sides with Nolan and the others in town who wanted to railroad Ruby to jail without hard evidence. He’d read the newspaper too much, believed it more than his own son.

  “Let’s go,” he said. She hopped in the truck. As Brandon pulled away, he spotted his father’s lonely figure tracking them down the driveway.

  Chapter 39

  Brandon pulled onto the highway that led to town, Emma in the seat next to him.

  “You’re hungry?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He’d planned on stopping by the store to pick up something for dinner. Eventually he’d get into the habit of making a list of meals and shopping in a more organized manner. The way Tori had. Cooking like a bachelor wouldn’t fly, not with Emma here.

  Shopping meant being in public. By now, everyone had read the article about him and the department. He could face criticism, but right now he just wanted to be with his daughter.

  “We’re going out,” he said.

  “Forks Diner?”

  “How about Giuseppe’s?”

  “Where’s that?”

  “An Italian place up in Port Angeles. Maybe we can get a movie, too.”

  “Serious?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking,” he said, grinning.

  “Okay,” Emma said, “But what movie. I have to approve—”

  “Whatever you want,” he said. “As long as it doesn’t involve a vampire love story.”

  “Gross,”
Emma said, “Who do you think I am? Grandpa?”

  Emma ordered chicken parmigiana and to Brandon’s surprise she finished her meal—to the last noodle. Brandon ordered a single sized pepperoni and mushroom pizza. Giuseppe’s had the best pizza in the state. As Brandon watched Emma finish her meal, his eyes rested on a table across the restaurant where Tori and he had sat when they stopped here on their first trip back from Forks as a couple. It was the day he’d introduced her to his parents for the first time.

  His father had liked Tori right away. Brandon figured that was because they were both straight shooters. His dad because of his personality, Tori by necessity—she was a woman working as a trial lawyer in a sea of Armani-wearing sharks.

  It had taken his mother a while longer, but once she overcame what she perceived as Tori’s aloofness, she grew fond of her too.

  “Dad?”

  He shook away the memory. Emma had been speaking to him.

  “Huh?”

  “Are you listening?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  She sighed. “Liar.”

  “Hey. Don’t be disrespectful. I don’t care how old you are.”

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  “I was saying, would you at least think about letting me stay here for the school year?”

  “Emma—”

  “What are the reasons against me coming here?” she asked.

  “For one, your mom—”

  “If she says it’s okay.”

  “And there’s nothing here for you.”

  “Except my dad,” she replied.

  He sighed.

  “Okay. Let me talk to your mom. But that means you’ll be in Seattle all summer and here during the school year.”

  “I know,” she said, a flicker of hope crossing her face.

  If Tori didn’t like the idea, it wouldn’t work. Their divorce had been as amicable as possible, and he wasn’t about to upset the balance they’d achieved so far. Emma was done with Seattle, and there were signs she was closer to Brandon than to her mom. For now. They couldn’t go changing the parenting agreement every time their teenage daughter got in a fight with her mom.

  “Are you ready?” she asked. “The movie starts in twenty minutes.”

  “Right.”

  He pulled out his wallet, but his phone rang. Misty’s number splashed across the screen. He didn’t answer.

  “Who’s that?” Emma asked.

  “No one.”

  “Work?”

  “No.”

  The server stopped by to take his card and while they were waiting, Emma asked, “Do you think that girl killed her boyfriend?”

  “What girl?”

  “Brooke. The one that invited me to the party.”

  “Emma. I don’t want to talk about work.”

  Hurt crossed her face, and he remembered the conversation they’d had earlier about Brandon not trusting her. She wanted to feel more grown up than she was. But she also wanted to be part of his life.

  “To be honest, I don’t know. Brooke was with her aunt the night Justin was murdered.”

  He could see the crank turning in her head.

  “What night was he killed?” she asked.

  “Friday.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s the night I stopped by her aunt’s house to drop off Brooke’s coat.”

  “You what?”

  “Remember, she let me borrow her coat.”

  He did, and he’d told her he would take the coat back himself.

  “And you returned it despite what I told you—”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. But listen. No one answered, so I left it on the porch, inside the front door. Misty went with me, so it’s not like it wasn’t safe.”

  That was the day Brandon had come home and Misty and Emma were talking on the porch. Why hadn’t Misty mentioned their trip to Brooke’s home?

  “Did you knock?”

  “Of course. The lights were off.”

  “I warned you not to get involved in the case, Emma.”

  She cast him an apologetic smile, but he could see the glimmer of excitement in her eyes, the thrill of the chase, knowing you had a clue that could lead to putting a bad guy in jail.

  “What time?” he asked.

  “Before you came home.”

  “So maybe five or six?”

  “I think so…”

  “Was there a car in the driveway?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Brooke’s aunt, Olivia, had claimed Brooke was at home with her during the time Justin died—the same time Emma and Misty went to her home.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Dad—”

  “I believe you. It’s just…”

  “You sure you want to go to the movie?” She asked. “You look worried.”

  “No. We’re going.”

  He’d told Emma they’d spend the evening together. He wouldn’t break that promise—no matter how hard it might be to keep his mind off the case. Emma had just shattered Brooke’s alibi.

  The movie ran almost two hours. With the romantic comedy plotline, cute dog, and small-town setting, it reminded Brandon of a Lifetime Channel flick he’d watched with Tori. He tried his best to laugh along with Emma. But his mind had latched on what she’d said about Brooke. Had Olivia lied about Brooke’s alibi? If so, why?

  Chapter 40

  Brandon was out the door by six thirty the next morning. The night before, Emma informed Brandon that his dad would be picking her up for a fishing trip sometime in the morning. He let her sleep.

  He’d been up before sunrise. Emma’s information about Brooke’s alibi was the break he needed.

  They’d done the background checks on everyone. Brooke’s only involvement with the police was the allegation of sexual assault against Justin. Justin had shrugged the accusation off as retaliation for cheating on her. If that was true, it showed Brooke was willing to go to great lengths in exacting revenge on people who’d wronged her.

  Emma’s word—that she thought Brooke wasn’t home the night of the murder—wasn’t enough to move forward with charges. Little evidence connected Brooke to either of the murders. The case against Ruby was more compelling.

  Brandon would follow up with Olivia regarding Brooke’s supposed alibi.

  He’d make one more trip up to the treatment center where Brooke had worked with Lauren and Justin. When Brandon had gone up to interview the methadone clinic staff with Jackson, they’d been focusing on Lauren, not her friends.

  Monday morning traffic plodded along Forks Avenue. Trucks pulling boats, headed for the river. Small clusters of tourists ambling to Forks Diner for a heavy dose of saturated fat and strong coffee.

  A Moonbeam Festival sign still hung across the highway, announcing Tiffany Quick as the guest of honor. How would the mayor deal with the author’s last-minute cancellation?

  Not Brandon’s problem, but he was sure to hear about it.

  Brandon reached the clinic just as they were finishing their morning dosing. Brandon knew from his experience in King County that many clinics did dosing at certain times of day. Most were in the morning, allowing those picking up the daily dose to go to work or treatment after visiting the clinic.

  He waited until the last person had left before approaching the dosing window.

  The woman handing out the methadone wore a faded red and black flannel shirt and a bright blue headscarf. She had a tear drop tattoo just below her right eye.

  “What’s up?” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Hoping to speak with the supervisor,” Brandon said.

  “You’re looking at her.”

  “You got a minute?”

  “I didn’t do it,” she said with a wry smile

  Brandon smiled back, and the woman hacked out a smoker’s laugh. “I’m just joshin’ ya. You never know, what with old warrants…”

  “How long you been sober?” Brandon asked.

  “Four years, six months.”r />
  “Nice.”

  “Let me lock up. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Brandon took a seat in the waiting area. About five minutes later, the woman came out, locking the door behind her.

  “Let’s go outside. I need a smoke.”

  Outside the clinic, the woman pulled out a pack of Pall Malls and lit one, blowing the smoke away from Brandon.

  “I’m Brandon, by the way.”

  “Anita McElroy.” She considered his uniform. “You here about one of our people? You know I can’t share anything with you.”

  “Not a client. Brooke Whittaker.”

  Anita coughed.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Brooke?”

  She took a long drag from the cigarette.

  “Hard to forget her.”

  “Why?” Brandon asked.

  “If she wasn’t pissed because she thought her boyfriend sleeping around, it was something else. You know, one of those people that seem to get their jollies being mad at everyone and everything.”

  It wasn’t just Adam who had a jealous streak. And Brooke, it seemed, possessed a certain aggressiveness that Brandon hadn’t noticed in Adam or Ruby.

  “What did she do when she got mad?”

  “I heard she beat up her boyfriend…what was his name?”

  “Justin?”

  “Yeah. Nice looking kid. Don’t know what he saw in her. Although I heard he like to plant his stake wherever he could, if you get my drift.”

  She hacked out a laugh again.

  “Justin wasn’t a small kid,” Brandon said.

  “I hear you, but I’ve seen that girl take down other girls twice her size.”

  “You mean she used to get in fights a lot?”

  “Brawls. Girls she thought were checking out her beau. I get it. You protect your claim on your old man, but that ain’t no reason to start fights with every woman who walks past.”

  Not only aggressive, but violent.

  “You saw her do this?”

  “Hell yeah. More than once.”