The building had previously been some type of bait store—at least that was what she had heard. The front door was made from old wood, whittled over time by the weather and overzealous drinkers. Katie heard loud music from inside, causing the door to slightly rattle. She pulled it open and was straightaway hit with cigarette and cigar smoke, putrid and thick. As she entered, the cloud of smoke burned her eyes.
There were two men seated at the bar with two bar stools between them. A party of three was in the corner and there were two more men at a table on the right. It struck Katie as odd that there weren’t any women—not even a barmaid.
She walked up to the bar. The two men sucking down their bourbons and whiskeys didn’t look directly at her. She took an available seat. No sign of Hugh Keller. There was no one behind the counter, but she could hear some rustling in the back room where the cases of booze were stored.
Katie waited patiently. She had the upper hand—at least for now—Keller didn’t know who she was. The only photo she had seen of him was his police academy photograph. Katie had a few flutters of anxiety, but her disgust and anger at the former deputy sheriff really made her stomach turn.
A man emerged from the storeroom carrying a case of whiskey. Katie couldn’t quite see his face at first as he turned and began unloading the bottles. His short dark hair was streaked with grey, he was medium build, around six feet tall, and his arms looked as if he bench-pressed every day.
As Katie shifted on her bar stool, she noticed that one of the men sitting next to her was staring at her. His face crinkled from years in the sun and long hair pulled back in a limp ponytail made him a caricature member from a biker gang. She coolly returned his gaze until the man finally cracked a smile, revealing large yellowed teeth, and turned his gaze back to his half-empty glass. He was either completely entertained by her, or might have pegged Katie for a cop and he knew what was going to happen next.
Keller turned around and saw Katie sitting there waiting patiently. His sunken dark eyes and bushy mustache didn’t change the general overall appearance of his rookie police photo—he was older and rougher-looking. But it was him. There was no doubt.
Katie forced a smile but felt her stomach turn sour and her fists clench.
“Well, darling, did you get the wrong address?” Keller said, eyeing up Katie.
“No.”
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at some trendy little sports bar?”
“Shouldn’t you be getting me a drink right about now?” she said, holding his stare.
There were a few low moans from some of the men.
“I see we have a tough one here tonight,” he said. Then looking around with exaggeration, he said, “Are you really here alone?”
“Do you see anyone else?”
“Honey, I don’t think this bar is for you.”
“What, are you afraid of women? I would have hated to have been the one that put you in your place.”
Keller’s demeanor changed. His back straightened, his smile disappeared, and he moved toward the glasses. “What do you want?”
“To drink?”
“Yeah, to drink. What do you want?”
“Oh, I want something, Hugh Keller, but it’s not a drink.” Katie could feel her anger rise inside her from its usual steady simmer when she dealt with really bad people—at home, or on the battlefield. She kept her mannerisms calm and her wits focused, still not knowing how this was going to play out. She wondered if McGaven had pulled into the parking lot yet.
“Do I know you?” he asked, not making any effort to be cordial anymore. He leaned toward her across the bar. “Who are you?”
“I’m so glad you asked,” she said, and reached under her hoodie to retrieve her badge. She stood up facing him and said, “Detective Katie Scott from the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department.”
Keller slowly stood up straight. For a moment Katie thought he was going to run, but she watched his hands in case he reached for some type of weapon.
“I have a few questions for you,” she said, putting her badge away.
Keller began to laugh—maniacal, over-exaggerated. It was obviously for the patrons’ benefit, to show that he was in control of the situation.
“What? Did I not make myself clear?” she said. “I would suggest that we speak in your office unless you want your customers to hear what I have to say. It isn’t pretty.”
“Okay, I thought it was cute at first, but now, you had just better walk on out of here—cop.”
“Not likely.”
Katie heard a couple of chairs scrape back from the table to her left.
“Listen, sweetheart, turn your nice little ass around and walk out of here.”
“You are Hugh Keller, right?” she pushed.
“Whatever you want to know is just too bad. Walk away.”
Katie smiled and almost laughed. She had been trained by some amazing army instructors in boot camp. They had been extra hard on her because she was a woman, but she learned quickly how to defend herself under many different conditions. She wasn’t intimidated.
“I’m not leaving until you answer a few questions.”
“You’re done here,” he said, and came around the bar.
“You can either answer a couple of questions here—or, my personal favorite would be to go to the sheriff’s department and answer the same questions in my house.”
Keller pushed up his sleeves and motioned to his two patrons to sit down. Katie didn’t move from her position.
“Here or there? Your choice.”
“The department must sure be proud of you.”
“You’ll have to ask them.”
“Wait a minute. You said your name is Detective Scott?”
“Did I stutter?” She knew that she was walking a fine line, but she wanted him to react so that she could have him held in jail for a few days—it would soften him up to answer her questions about the Elm Hill Mansion and Candace Harlan. He was playing directly into her hands.
“You’re not related to Sheriff Scott, are you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“He doesn’t have any kids.”
“No.”
“But he had a niece, I think, that was in the army or something. Is that you?”
“That’s me. Now, are you going to answer my questions here or at the department? It’s a simple question.”
Keller laughed. “What, you think that you can’t be touched because you’re related to the sheriff? No one in here will say anything. You’re way out of your league, sweetheart.”
He stepped forward as Katie took two steps to the side. She anticipated his move and kept eye contact.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said.
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
He lunged for her just as she gave him an uppercut punch to the stomach. It wasn’t full force, but hurt him nonetheless. Keller doubled over, gasping for breath—the wind had been temporarily knocked out of him. She listened to him wheeze for about a minute. Katie didn’t want to pull her weapon until absolutely necessary, but he wasn’t going quietly.
Keller regained his composure and when he looked at her he was seething with rage.
Katie blinked but kept her eye on him—readying herself to pull her weapon to keep things under control until backup arrived.
Before she could outmaneuver Keller again, taking away her full concentration of the room, one of the wooden chairs sailed across the bar and struck Katie’s lower back. Her body slammed down onto the floor and she lay there, staring upward at Keller approaching fast. Not taking the time to acknowledge the shooting pain she felt down her back and legs, she rolled twice to get out of Keller’s reach, but ending up looking up at a large man with an extremely long beard gazing down at her.
If there ever was a time to use her combat fighting skills—it was now.
Katie concentrated on her breathing and being in the moment, which slowed everything down around
her—the voices, the movement, the background sounds. At least that was what it appeared to do for her. It was a technique that she had learned from one of the people who trained her to work harder, faster, and stronger if she was going to survive the army.
The long beard of the patron almost touched her face as he stared down at her. His mistake. The repulsive gray and white hairs almost touched her, so she took the opportunity to kick him in the groin where he dropped next to her, moaning and groaning in a fetal position.
Katie scrabbled to get to a standing position—that’s when she felt a surge of pain radiating through her back.
Keller lunged at her like a bear. He ran directly for her, grabbing her in a tight hug and lifting her up like she weighed less than a bottle of whiskey. Pushing her onto the bar, she didn’t struggle; instead, she was able to bring her arms and fists together, breaking his grip. She rolled, jumped down behind the bar and skirted to the inventory room. It seemed her best choice even though she had never been in the room and wasn’t sure if there was a back door to the place.
There had been a recent delivery and the stacked bottles of booze provided an excellent cover for her. Katie tucked behind them, pulled her gun, and readied herself. She searched for a way out, finding a sliding wooden door leading to the back of the parking lot.
“Scott!” Keller yelled.
Steadying her grip on the gun, she stepped out from behind the stacked boxes.
“Stay right there!” she commanded.
Keller laughed. “What are you going to do?”
Katie readied the gun. “Take one more step and you’ll find out.”
Even though Keller thought he was a tough guy, he was smart enough not to tempt fate.
Two more men burst through the door behind Keller.
“Stay back!”
The men stopped instantly when they saw the gun she had targeted on Keller.
“You know, Keller, we could have done this the easy way and answered a few questions, but no, you have to go commando and, guess what? You’re going to jail.”
Katie heard commotion from the bar area.
“Katie!” a voice yelled.
McGaven pushed his way past the men at the door with his weapon trained out in front. “What’s going on?” he demanded. Glancing at Katie, he said, “You okay?”
“Fine,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Alright, everybody, back into the bar,” McGaven said. “Now!” Turning back around, “Well, well,” he said to Keller. “We meet again. I knew you would crawl out from under a rock someday.”
“McGaven,” Keller grumbled.
McGaven lowered his weapon and put handcuffs on Keller.
“What am I being arrested for?”
“Simple assault, assault on a police officer, impeding a murder investigation, and oh, I’m sure there will be a whole host of other charges.”
Katie lowered her gun and returned it to the holster underneath her sweatshirt. Her heightened pulse began to stabilize.
“The Well, 267 Second Avenue, one for pick up… ten-four…” McGaven instructed to dispatch from his cell phone. To Hugh Keller, “Sit down here and wait quietly.” Keller obliged but kept a bitter expression. McGaven steered Katie through the storeroom and then outside just near the back door.
“You okay?” he said quietly.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
McGaven touched her face where there was a minor cut. “You’re bleeding.”
“I don’t have time to bleed, we have two homicides to solve,” she said with some humor.
“It’s not funny. Did you not hear what the sheriff told you, everyone, during that meeting? You’re essentially on probation.”
“Hey, if I have to receive a few black spots in my file for stepping out of line to get a killer off the street, I’ll do it every time.” She stared hard at McGaven and then softened. “I’m sorry. You’re the last person I should be snapping at, but I didn’t do anything out of line here. I defended myself. This guy is full of rage and has a serious lack of impulse control.”
“I know. Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I did. I thought I would do some intel first… until you got here.”
“So what happened?”
“I walked in, got his attention, identified myself, and then he came after me. Some weird wizard-looking guy threw a chair at me and knocked me down. I did what I had to do. Kneed the guy, fought off Keller. He slammed me on the bar—I got away from him and managed to get back here. Got the drop on him at gunpoint.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t look at me like that—I’ve been through more firefights in Afghanistan that make this scuffle look like a paper cut.”
McGaven sighed.
Two patrol cars zoomed into the bar parking lot.
“I read all the reports from the Elm Hill Mansion and the background on Hugh Keller. It made me nuts. I knew he was someone that hated authority but, when he had it, abused it to his personal gain.”
“I know,” McGaven said softly.
“I knew that he wasn’t going to cooperate and answer our questions here. Why would he? The best way to talk to him and get his undivided attention is on our terms—at the sheriff’s department.”
The rain poured. Large drops hammered the blacktop and small rivulets streamed down the sides. McGaven and Katie took cover underneath a roof overhang.
“Look, I love this job and working with you. I just don’t…” he tried to explain.
“I will be careful next time.”
McGaven gently squeezed her shoulder.
“Let’s move forward,” she said.
“You need a good night’s sleep and we’ll begin early tomorrow. Okay?”
“But what about—”
“I’ll handle this and make sure he gets booked in tonight. We’ll talk with him tomorrow.”
“But—”
“I said I’ll take care of it and write the report of the incident. I’m not going to accept anything else. Go home, Katie, and cool off, get a good night’s sleep.”
Katie felt her back ache and now the side of her face stung. She wasn’t in any mood to argue and she could tell that McGaven was upset with her—more than her lack of safety. Sleep was important and she needed it desperately—so she left the bar.
As she sat in the sedan, overwhelming emotions coursed through her body. It was odd that she wanted to physically hurt Hugh Keller and at the same time she wanted to break down and cry.
Gripping the steering wheel with what energy she had left, she watched a deputy escort Keller to the police car. As they walked by in front of her vehicle, Keller made eye contact and a slight lift of his chin to indicate that they would meet again.
Katie didn’t know if it was the rain that had saturated her clothes or the look on Keller’s face that made her shiver more. She knew that Keller had information that they desperately needed on the murders of Carol Harlan and Mary Rodriguez.
Twenty-Five
Thursday 2115 hours
Katie eased the car up her driveway and cut the engine. She had exerted so much energy that she was left with a drained body and a tired mind. She had completely forgotten about her online session with Dr. Carver and was riddled with guilt. The doctor had emailed her and suggested talking again in the same week—she had agreed.
With a quick text to the doctor, she wrote: Sorry about the online no show, investigation went long today. I’ll reschedule soon.
It was official, despite the good night’s sleep, exhaustion had set in and Katie thought she could barely make it out of her car and to the front door without having to take a break. The rain had stopped and only droplets remained on the trees, bushes, and driveway. There was a constant drip from the gutters cascading the excess water from her farmhouse roof.
She grabbed her briefcase and exited the vehicle with low energy. Unlocking her front door, she was instantly greeted by Cisco. His tail wagging and high-pitch whining as he circle
d her was the best greeting ever; it gave her a lift in spirit.
Quickly changing into her pajamas, she only had the energy to heat up a bowl of leftover chicken soup. She wasn’t hungry, but knew that she would still feel tired in the morning if she hadn’t eaten anything the night before.
After going to bed, Katie couldn’t sleep for tossing and turning about the day’s events and the confrontation with Hugh Keller.
Could he be the killer?
It was possible, but she knew in her gut that it was highly unlikely. As much as she would have liked for it to be him and the cases solved—and closed—there was much more to the cases and she just had to begin putting the pieces together.
Looking at her clock on the nightstand, it had barely been an hour since she had climbed into bed. She pushed Cisco to the side and got up. The dog wasn’t going to move from his warm spot.
Katie’s mind couldn’t stop spinning with the investigations. She also still felt guilty after missing her session with Dr. Carver.
Pulling on her sweatpants and shirt, she decided to go where she felt the most relaxed and where she could actually think about things: the porch swing in the backyard. It didn’t matter what time of year—it was still her private place, just like when she was a kid. No matter what problem she was wrestling with, things had a way of working out when she sat there.
She grabbed a blanket from the couch and went outside. The cool clean air helped to clear her head and lungs. The acreage was quiet—no sound of the wildlife, no breeze. It was comforting to sit wrapped in a warm blanket and just be part of the silence.
A cracking noise around the side of her house broke the relaxing quiet. Katie sat up straight, listening to hear it again or to figure out its origin.
It was most likely an animal like a raccoon or skunk milling around after the rains. But, there was something human about the sound. She stood up, peeling away the blanket, still straining to hear.
As with her investigations, Katie always followed through with everything that presented itself, leaving nothing to chance. So her tenaciousness made her check out the unusual noise while most would likely dismiss it.
Last Girls Alive: A totally addictive crime thriller and mystery novel (Detective Katie Scott Book 4) Page 13
