Her Last Whisper: An absolutely unputdownable crime thriller (Detective Katie Scott Book 2)

by Jennifer Chase

  Why hadn’t Amanda mentioned the bad smell? Why did she smell jasmine? It had been six months since the attack, but it was clear that it had been a lot longer than that since the house smelt like “spring,” as Amanda had described it.

  She walked to the only front window that had vertical bars loose enough for someone to squeeze through.

  But why not escape out the front door?

  Katie focused her attention on the front door where there were geometric holes that had once housed two extra locks that were now missing. It was difficult to ascertain if the locks were part of the dilapidating house or if someone had removed them recently.

  Taking a couple of deep breaths from the clean outdoor air, Katie then turned and headed deeper inside the house to search the bedrooms. The once low-grade carpet was now torn and curled from the baseboards causing it to buckle and fold beneath her feet in several areas.

  The living room was empty except for some old trash that had been there for months and a couple of spray-painted initials from local gangs muddying the walls.

  There were no pieces of furniture or anything that indicated anyone had been living there during the past six months or longer. A small bathroom missing the toilet and sink separated the two small bedrooms. As with the rest of the house, the rooms were empty and there was no indication that there had been furniture or anyone living there within the last year or more. The thicker old carpet didn’t show any signs of a bed, table, or chairs having left indentations.

  The rooms felt smaller than she thought they would be—even without furnishings. Disappointed, Katie walked through the rest of the house and into the kitchen. There was nothing to indicate anything criminal happened in the house or that anyone had been residing there—or held against their will. If there had been, the abductor cleared everything after Amanda had escaped.

  No blood.

  No remnants from the abductor’s restraints or tools.

  No bed.

  Would it be worthwhile to have John dust for prints? She didn’t think so: it had been too long. Fingerprints were the most fragile piece of forensic evidence and it was highly likely that if there had been any, they would have been contaminated from time, the weather, and any squatters.

  Katie walked around the kitchen near the pantry area and her eye caught something on the floor. She bent down and picked up three small white adhesive pieces, each about an inch long. Rubbing them against her thumb and forefinger, they felt springy and elastic, most likely the remains of a waterproof sealant. It was possible that the type of caulking might have been transferred from someone’s shoes or fallen away from something removed, but it was relatively new.

  Cisco’s distinct deep bark interrupted her thoughts.

  She looked up just as the front door slammed shut with such a force she heard the remains of broken windows rattle and portions drop to the ground. On a still day like this, it couldn’t have been a gust of wind. Someone must have slammed it.

  Cisco’s rapid bark echoed throughout the empty neighborhood.

  She raced out of the kitchen through the living room to face the closed front door. Her imagination spiraling. She grabbed the handle, expecting to find it locked, leaving her trapped inside, but surprisingly, it turned easily in her hand.

  Pulling her weapon, she flung open the door to—nothing. There was no one waiting or running down the street. She ran to the road and scanned every direction—looking for anything to indicate someone had been there.

  Nothing moved.

  No one was around.

  She looked at Cisco breathing heavy at the slightly opened window—he began barking again. Katie knew he had seen who had slammed the front door and he had smelled their scent as they ran by.

  Without hesitating any longer, Katie opened the back door and Cisco leaped out. She grabbed the long twelve-foot lead from inside the car and quickly snapped it onto him.

  “Suk,” she said—the command meaning trail. Knowing that there wasn’t much time, they took off with Cisco in the lead; his nose pressed against the ground as he gained momentum. Katie trailed behind him holding the leash and eyeing the houses, side alleys, and anywhere someone might be hiding.

  Cisco slowed down after an intense ten minutes of darting this way and that. They were back at the main road again and the trail had gone cold. Katie looked around and saw no sign of a car or anyone running. She never heard the sound of a car speed away, or even a motorcycle. If the person was on foot then they would have seen them. The only thing she could think of was the person must’ve ridden away on a bike. What other explanation could it have been?

  Walking slowly back to the car still catching her breath, Katie found a folded piece of paper lying on the ground next to her driver’s door. She carefully picked it up and unfolded it. Written with the same cursive writing in blue ink as the other note, it read:

  You’re closer, red hot now.

  Twenty-Two

  Monday 1045 hours

  Tess was late for work. Really late. She’d overslept. After calling in and giving an excuse that she had to make an emergency visit to the dentist and wouldn’t be in until after lunch, all she could think about was going back to bed once more. Her brain was foggy and felt like she was in an endless loop of despair with no way to get out. She sat down on her couch with her head in her hands, trying desperately to forget that morning barely three months ago where it all began.

  She had been getting ready for work when the phone rang. It was a police sergeant calling from the hospital. Tess’s sister, Laurie, had been found unresponsive in her apartment after a neighbor couldn’t get an answer at the door. They’d found Laurie in the bathtub, unconscious, having cut her own wrists.

  Tess had rushed to the hospital, but it was too late. Her little sister had been successful in taking her own life. She remembered standing in the emergency area where Laurie’s body still lay on the gurney—lifeless, frail and so alone. The hospital staff, seemingly uncaring, left Tess to run around trying to get answers herself until a janitor came in to begin cleaning up after the doctors failed to revive her. Blood was spattered everywhere and a hot rage welled up inside her—she wanted someone to pay for what had happened to her sister, so she lunged at the unsuspecting cleaner, beating on him and knocking him down. It took at least a minute or more before a couple of people arrived to pull her away.

  Tess was still grieving, but someone had to be blamed for what had happened to her beautiful younger sister. Tears streamed down her face at the memory, but after a few deep breaths she managed to stop and pull herself together a little. She took a moment to stare at a photograph on her coffee table, of her and her sister on holiday two years ago, before going to the kitchen.

  Tess rinsed her coffee cup and placed it in the sink. She realized that she didn’t want to end up like her sister—she wanted to try to make her life work and have a chance to be happy. She had up and down days, but soon they would get better. Her sister’s life mattered, and the thought of other people going through what she had with the loss made her equally unhappy.

  She quickly filled two small plastic dishes with a vegetable salad and makings for a sandwich.

  Not having the time to take a shower, she combed her hair and twisted it in an up-do, and searched for something to wear. She opted for a simple beige suit with a pink camisole to wear underneath. The days were becoming warmer and she could get some sun in the park if it was warm enough.

  Making sure that she turned off all the lights, Tess gathered her purse, food, and jacket, deciding to leave the house through the garage. Opening the door, the garage was dark and smelled like motor oil. The doorknob was loose and appeared to have been vandalized at some point. She took a quick photo with her phone to send to the landlord later.

  Tess turned around to head back inside the house and was instantly overpowered from behind, causing her to drop her purse, cell phone, and jacket. Her food hit the ground and scattered all around. She tried to scream, but her mouth was pr
essed hard with duct tape. Strong hands and arms kept her immobile. Terrified and panicked, she tried to fight back but her face was pushed down onto the cold cement floor and held hard there to keep her immobile while her attacker expertly tied her wrists and ankles. She tried to twist her body and head to see who was behind her, but she only saw dark pants and heavy hiking boots.

  The more she wriggled and tried to move, the more pressure her assailant placed against her spine. The cold cement against her right cheek numbed her face and sent tingling pains through her teeth and gums. There was a prick on the back of her right arm. Before she could move again and try to fight back, an overwhelming tiredness floated throughout her body.

  She tried to fight it, but eventually succumbed to sleep and blacked out.

  Twenty-Three

  Monday 1145 hours

  Katie and McGaven spent some time moving the furniture around in her office so that both desks were offset enough for them to easily move around. They organized the boxes out of the way, so they wouldn’t be running into them every time they got up from their desks. Katie wanted to ask John if they could use the empty office across the hall to store the other cold-case boxes. It was already empty, larger, and had its own security code.

  Katie leaned against her desk and let out a sigh. She knew that a lot of work needed to be accomplished. “Sorry that I put you to work doing physical labor right away, but this feels much better,” she said.

  “I agree. I felt a bit like a bull in a china shop the way it was before.”

  Katie pulled together everything that she had on Amanda’s case and sat down at her desk facing McGaven. “Okay, this is what we have so far.” She had made another copy of Amanda’s file and the first-week update she’d given the sheriff.

  McGaven began reading and looked up in surprise. “When have you had a chance to sleep?”

  Katie laughed. “Basically, just yesterday. I’m actually feeling quite rested.”

  “It’s a waiting game with forensics and the autopsy report,” he said. “What’s this?” He pushed the file forward, referring to the clothing Amanda wore when she was first found.

  “I don’t know why Detective Petersen, the investigator originally assigned to the case, didn’t have it tested, but he claimed that it wasn’t necessary. At least it wasn’t misfiled or lost. It’s getting tested now.”

  “Petersen is an interesting guy,” McGaven mused, without elaborating. “So you’ve spoken to Detective Petersen, Deputy Windham, Dr. Smith at the psychiatric hospital, and Marco Ellis at the First Memorial Hospital.” He quickly read the result of the interviews and the notes that had been written by Petersen.

  “What do you think?” she said.

  “You haven’t been able to contact anyone from Amanda’s family?”

  “I looked into it. I spoke with two cousins out of state—otherwise Amanda had no family. I don’t think there’s anything that needs to be followed up on with them.”

  “That just leaves the boss, girlfriend, and the ex-boyfriend.”

  “Yes, but there are so many possible suspects at the hospital. But my gut tells me that the killer either works there or has business there. At this point we can’t rule anyone out.”

  “This is interesting about Jane Doe. Do you think that link has legs?”

  “Yes, I’m not sure how but I think she might be a key missing piece to this investigation.”

  “This takes me to these notes you’ve been getting.”

  “Yeah, I’m trying to figure them out. Both are with John to see if we can get any prints, but I’m not hopeful.”

  “You think it’s the killer taunting you? Or someone related to the killer trying to help you?”

  “I really don’t know. We have to move ahead and see where all this fits.”

  McGaven stared at her. “Either way, you need to be careful. It may be a wacko, or not—watch your back.”

  “Hey, I’ve got Cisco.”

  “Still.”

  “I will be careful, don’t worry,” she said. “Okay, here’s my plan.”

  “Shoot,” he said with his eyes wide and ready to get to work.

  “This is the part that most detectives hate.”

  “Not sure that I’m liking the sound of this,” he said lightheartedly.

  “We need to find out information and backgrounds on people we have so far. We also need to see if there are any security cameras leading into the park area next to Whispering Pines or near Emily Day’s house. Anything we can get. See what you can do.”

  McGaven grabbed a yellow notepad and began writing.

  “I haven’t been able to get in contact with Amanda’s supervisor, Dr. Jamison. The hospital seems to keep him incredibly busy. I think I want to do some checking on him as well as Emily Day.”

  McGaven nodded and continued to make notes.

  “We need a background check on Dr. Smith from the psychiatric hospital. For due diligence. He’s odd and I want to see if he has had any issues, problems, or lawsuits revolving around the hospital, patients, or personally.”

  “Noted,” he said.

  Katie paused, staring at the board. She studied her notes on the killer as well as what they knew about Amanda. “I need to rework the preliminary profile once we get the forensics and autopsy results. I’m going to do some digging for property information.”

  “On what?”

  “First, the house in Basin Woods Development that Amanda described and the deputies searched seems strange to me.”

  “Strange how?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m certain it’s the right house, but there’s nothing there. I want to find out more about the homes that were built in the development and try to obtain the building plans.”

  “Maybe there were building shortcuts? Payoffs? Somebody got shorted that worked the original project and the wrong person got pissed off?”

  “I like the way your mind works,” Katie said. She took another look at the overview maps of the area. “You bring up a good point. What about all the people who lived there? How were they relocated? Were they compensated in any way?”

  McGaven shifted in his chair, making it squeak. “Someone losing their home is pretty traumatic. Would that make for a motive to kill?”

  Katie stood up and stretched her back. She had tacked a county map on the wall and marked all the areas of importance including the housing area, crime scene, hospital, Amanda’s apartment, and Emily’s apartment. “There’s no connection to Amanda or the people close to her—as of right now.”

  “What about Amanda’s crime scene area?”

  “I was thinking that too. Find out who owns the land, or what corporation does, and anything of interest.”

  “It’s on my list now,” he said and smiled.

  “I don’t know how good you are at spreadsheets, but we need to be organized with all this information.”

  “Got it,” he said.

  Katie picked up the internal phone, dialed extension #41 and waited. “Hey, Denise, how are you?” she asked. Denise had been invaluable helping her with background information and various searches on her last case involving a missing girl. She wanted to utilize her skills on Amanda’s case.

  “Katie, I’m doing great. How’s the office?” Denise said.

  “It’s really good. We’ve been moving stuff around to make it more efficient.”

  “I heard you have McGaven working with you again.”

  “Wow, word travels fast.”

  “You know I’m plugged in around here. Nothing gets by me.” She chuckled.

  “I was wondering if you had a few minutes to come down.”

  “Sure. Give me five.”

  “See you in a few,” Katie said and hung up.

  “What’s on your mind?” McGaven asked.

  “Well, Denise is a lot more proficient with computer searches than I am. And some of them take a while, so she can do her other duties at the same time.”

  He nodded in agreement.

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nbsp; “Since I didn’t get to talk to Dr. Jamison at the hospital, or Emily Day, I thought we could find out more about them before our next attempt.”

  “Background search?” he asked.

  “More like social media.”

  “Perfect, people say and post things like the entire world can’t see it.”

  “Exactly. I also want Denise to see if she can find out anything else about the ex-boyfriend, Marco Ellis.”

  “Great idea,” he agreed.

  McGaven studied her preliminary profile of the kidnapper, now killer, and the victimology for Amanda Payton. “You’re sure that the kidnapper is the same person as the killer?”

  “Of course, don’t you think?” Katie asked. “I know I don’t have solid proof, but I’m going to proceed as if I do.”

  “Are you sure? As I read your notes here, and I get what you mean, but what makes you think it’s the same guy unequivocally? Okay…” He got up. “The linkage isn’t here, at least not yet.”

  “I see where you’re going with this, but—”

  “And until we know for sure from John that there’s linkage in these cases, shouldn’t we move forward objectively and systematically by not zeroing in on one thing?” he said.

  “You’re right,” Katie agreed. “What stands out to you?”

  McGaven studied the board and the case files for a couple of minutes before he answered.

  “I know there are no typical murder crime crimes, but this doesn’t seem familiar. You know what I mean?”

  “You mean like a crime of passion—from a lover or someone she might have crossed paths with. There’s no overkill. Only her restraint marks on her wrists and ankles.” Katie thought about the extent of the crime.

  “Is that from Sherlock’s ideology?” asked Denise as she stood at the doorway holding a notepad.

  “It could be,” said Katie smiling.