“Well, it’s my job actually. I think proper introductions are in order. I’m Detective Katie Scott with PV Sheriff’s Department.”
“Very nice to meet you. Everyone calls me Tim.” He used a towel to wipe his face; he was a nice-looking man with very expressive eyes and slightly sharp features.
“Well then, Tim, can I ask you a few questions about a previous employee of yours?”
“Shoot.”
“James Haines,” she said, and watched his reaction.
He let out a sigh. “James was one of my best new creators. He was green when he started, but then he caught the inspiration bug and really became a great artist. One of my best, in fact. I was sad that he just left, no word, no phone call, and not even a text message. It was like he just vanished.”
“How long did he work here?”
“About two years, give or take a month or two.”
“Did he ever speak about a brother?”
“He didn’t talk much about his personal life. Every once in a while he’d tell a funny story from when he was young, but other than that, he was totally into his work.”
“His brother has asked me to look into his whereabouts. It’s very important that I find him. Do you know where he could’ve gone? Moved to? Anything?” she asked.
Tim shook his head and said, “I know he had a roommate. A guy he called Bear, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, I’ve already talked with him,” she said. Hesitating and then asking, “Did he seem to change? Become depressed? Angry? Anything unusual that would make him leave so abruptly.”
Tim cocked his head to one side as if thinking back. “Now that you mention it, he was a little moody, even for him, and seemed to have something weighing heavy on his mind.”
“Do you know what it might have been?”
He shook his head.
“Could you wager a guess?”
“Detective, I really don’t know. The only thing that sticks in my mind is that he did like to place bets on sports teams like the rest of us. Maybe he had debt? I really don’t know.”
“His brother is his only living relative. It’s so important that I find him. Some things… have changed and I think it’s so important for the brothers to get back in touch.”
Tim let out a sigh. He seemed to understand the importance of Katie’s trip. “I really can’t think of anything, but his workstation might give you some clues.”
“Is it still available?”
“I haven’t had the heart to clear it and give it to someone else.” He forced a smile. “I was thinking, maybe, he might return.”
“May I see it?” she asked.
Standing up and joining Katie at the doorway, he said, “Sure, follow me.”
Katie followed the special effects director down another hallway where there were open rooms on both sides. She saw people working on models and robotic monsters.
Tim stopped at one of the rooms toward the end. “This is it. Look around as long as you like. It was nice meeting you and I hope you find him,” he said, pausing a moment before he left. “Oh, if, or rather when you find him, tell him he always has a job here.” Tim left.
Katie stood looking around at all the unusual equipment and materials used to make special effects. There was a large table in the middle of the room with smaller work areas around the walls. Two silicone dragon masks were in one corner and pieces to some hideous red monster lay on one of the other work areas. A tall stand with special small drawers and cubbyholes stood in the farthest corner. A blue rolling suitcase, partially open, revealed a variety of heavy makeup colors from every skin shade to a vast array of rainbow shades.
She looked out the door and down the hall. Loud voices were coming from another area. Otherwise, it was mostly quiet and no one seemed to be near. She waited another few moments in case someone wanted to come forward and give her any information—but no one did.
Beginning from left to right, similar to searching a crime scene, Katie looked through James’s stuff to see if she could find anything that might give new information to where he might have gone—or who he might be with.
She opened every tiny drawer, where she found props from huge false eyelashes to glass eyeballs. Systematically searching, she only came up with things that were work related. Sticky materials and various shapes of clay, silicone, and other substances adhered to her fingertips, making her hands feel oily.
She kept examining every item.
She stopped at a mechanical monster still in the early stages of a head, torso, and arms. Stuck between an intricate jawbone in the face was a small torn section of paper, obviously tucked securely so that he wouldn’t lose it. Written in pencil was the name “Nadine” and a phone number in the same local area code.
Katie tucked the paper in her pocket. She finished the pursuit of finding anything that would lead to James, but there was nothing else.
Feeling somewhat disappointed, Katie quickly dialed the phone number and it immediately went to voicemail with a computerized voice. She would keep trying and do a search in phone records when she got back to her desk.
Katie retraced her way through the building and finally back to the parking lot; leaving the area, she headed toward Silver Springs Hospital to meet with Jane Doe with just enough time during the allotted afternoon visiting hours.
Her cell phone buzzed. There was a text from Nadine’s number:
Who is this?
Thirty-Five
Wednesday 1330 hours
McGaven was still on an emotional high after leaving the hospital and felt like he was actually a fully sworn police detective running down clues. He tried not to dwell on the fact that it took a woman being murdered for him to get a chance to show that he could contribute to an investigation.
When he returned to the office, several CDs had been forwarded to the department from multiple businesses and the state transportation department along the route between Emily Day’s apartment and the Whispering Pines area. McGaven began the painstaking task of trawling through all the footage.
He stretched his arms over his head, rubbed his eyes, and tried to make himself more comfortable in the chair. It was quiet. Too quiet. Even the chairs didn’t squeak loud enough down here. He thought you actually could hear a pin drop if he decided to test that theory.
He stood up as the videos were still running and moved around the room examining everything closely—especially the notes Katie posted on the board.
Sitting back down, he tried to make a game out of watching the boring surveillance footage. There were more women featured than men. Men seemed to walk slower and take their time to get into their vehicles, while women hurried, sometimes dropping their keys, before getting into their cars. There were dogs with their owners, usually small dogs. He noted there was one Labrador and a German shepherd too.
Two hours had passed and he was finally approaching the time that Amanda must’ve left the apartment. He looked at the timestamp and it read 11.05 p.m. She was walking down her road and waited at the corner of Forest Avenue and Spruce Street. The video was taken by a nearby convenience store and gas station. She appeared to be waiting for someone and it didn’t take long before a dark, high-end sedan pulled up next to her. She bent over and talked to the person driving. Amanda blocked the view of the driver, but she seemed relaxed and chatted a moment with the unknown person.
McGaven then saw the car pull to the side of the road near the store. The vehicle was barely in range of the surveillance camera, but McGaven could still see a man get out of the car and open the passenger door for Amanda. It was all cordial and there wasn’t anything that suggested there wasn’t a mutual friendly trust between them.
Interesting.
Doesn’t match her story.
McGaven watched the footage several times, but he couldn’t get a clear photo of the driver. The videos were blurry and the resolution was extremely poor. He made several stills, but the man in question could be twenty or sixty. It was h
azy to be able to tell what kind of hair he had, but he was wearing some type of dark jacket and pants. There was no way to properly identify him. The video was a tool to begin to retrace the timeline of Amanda’s last moments.
One thing was for sure, Amanda wasn’t under duress or kidnapped—she went willingly.
Thirty-Six
Wednesday 1445 hours
Katie sat in the parking lot at Silver Springs Psychiatric Hospital. She tried to respond to the text she received from Nadine, but she got no reply. She tried a couple of more times. No answer.
Damn.
Katie must’ve spooked her.
Readying herself, she knew that her prime directive was to find out more information from Jane Doe, to see if there was actual linkage between her and Amanda’s homicide. As much as she wanted to follow up on this mysterious phone number and message, she had to keep her top priority on Amanda.
The new psychiatric hospital was much different than the last place due to the exceptionally well-tended landscaping and the style of the building. It appeared more like an upscale condominium or vacation spot, except for the chain-link fencing with barbwire along one entire side.
Before Katie exited her vehicle, she quickly ate a protein bar and drank some water. Her stomach had been rumbling, so she needed something to tide her over before she got back home.
Readying herself, she got out of her vehicle and headed to the main entrance. Tucked in her briefcase was a beautiful book about growing and cultivating roses, which she was going to give to Jane Doe.
She couldn’t help but remember the message that waited for her when she left the previous psychiatric hospital. Would that person leave another note? Could they have been following her today without her knowing? Katie didn’t think so—she was cautious and watched her mirrors in case anyone was following or showing up in more than one place.
Before she reached the door, she was hit with the most wonderful aroma of blooming flowers: honeysuckle and orange blossoms. The smell of a garden lifted her mood as she pulled open the door and approached the main desk. The setup was different from the last mental health facility—casual and friendly with bright artwork on the walls.
Katie stood at the main desk and announced herself, “Hi, I’m Detective Katie Scott and I called about visiting a new patient here—Jane Doe.” She flashed her badge.
The young receptionist, with extremely long nails, tapped quickly over the keyboard. “I’m sorry, Detective, but no one called you?”
“No, called me for what?”
“Jane Doe isn’t receiving any visitors today.”
“When did this happen?”
The receptionist clicked on another screen and said, “I’m not seeing that information. It just says that there are to be no visitors for her today—and until otherwise noted.”
Katie was disappointed and even a bit aggravated. “Was it ordered by Dr. Trent Smith?”
She shook her head, “No, I don’t see that name.”
“And you can’t give me any more information than that,” Katie said.
“I’m afraid not, Detective. I’m very sorry you drove here for nothing.” She forced a professional smile.
“Can I leave this book for her?”
“I’m sorry, no, hospital policy.”
Katie was going to say something else, but realized it was futile. “Thank you.”
Hurrying to her car, she looked to see if another note had been neatly folded and stuck in her window frame, but there wasn’t one.
Why were they not allowing Jane Doe to see any visitors?
What had changed?
I’m not giving up on you, Jane…
Thirty-Seven
Wednesday 1645 hours
He watched her as she lay motionless on the bed, straining to listen. For what, he didn’t exactly know. It wouldn’t help her escape. No one was within earshot. No one would hear her pathetic screams. She could cry out all she wanted, but no one was going to rescue her.
His interest in her grew weary. She wouldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, but she was special. There was something deep inside her that she really needed to express—tell someone—but she wouldn’t divulge any of it. She held strong. He could see from the way she squirmed that she thought she could still escape. That was a mistake he’d made before, but he wasn’t ever going to make it again.
As he left the house, he saw the fire again—flames inching out the windows. Smoke everywhere.
Stop it… stop it…
Exhausted, he leaned against the front of the house, gasping for air, still trying to catch his breath. He tasted the burn and smelled the smoke.
No…
Nothing was going to take away from his mission…
The truth.
Nothing.
Thirty-Eight
Wednesday 1800 hours
Katie was beyond tired and felt ready to sleep even though it was still early. The two strong cups of black coffee had worn off; even though she had new information to shed some light on the case, she was too tired to contemplate it now. As her energy waned, poisonous self-doubts crept into her mind. Was she wasting time following up with Jane Doe? Was she moving the investigation in the right direction? Her gut told her that there was an important piece of evidence associated with Jane Doe and time would have to play that card sooner or later.
As she eased her police sedan onto her property—she’d been too tired to pick up her Jeep at the department—she saw her uncle’s white SUV parked in the driveway. She had called him to check in on Cisco, which he always loved to do, but she was surprised that he was still here.
Katie slowly got out of the car and walked towards the house. The door opened just as Cisco jetted outside and ran around her three times, wiggling his rear end and tail.
“Hey, boy,” she said wearily, giving him a quick pat.
Her uncle opened the door wider. “Long day?” he said.
“Really long, but productive,” she said, closing the door. “What are you still doing here?”
“I wanted to see you and make sure everything was okay.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him as she dropped her briefcase and shed her jacket. Usually she was particular about putting everything in its place, but tonight she just didn’t care. “Just really, really tired…”
“I wanted to hang out with Cisco and we watched the game together.”
Katie laughed. “That’s good. I know he enjoys a good game and some guy time.”
Cisco grumbled and ran to the couch, jumping up on it and making a spectacle.
She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Staring at the contents, nothing looked good to her.
“There’s a plate with foil over the top. That’s for you,” her uncle said from the living room.
She grabbed the plate and curled back the foil to find a chicken breast, wild rice, and a fresh vegetable medley. “Yum. Did you make this?”
The dog made a beeline for the kitchen and was immediately next to Katie’s side, nose sniffing at the open fridge.
“Hardly. Claire did. She’s really an amazing cook. You don’t know how lucky I am finding her.”
Katie pulled the plate out, tossed the foil, and put it into the microwave for a couple of minutes. She walked into the living room, kicked off her boots, and sat down next to her uncle.
Letting out a sigh, she said, “What’s up?”
“What do you mean?” He tried to sound casual.
“I mean, why are you here at this hour?” She leaned against him and asked, “What did I do?”
“Nothing. I’m just a bit worried.”
“Alright, who said what?” She knew someone must have made a comment about her working hard that made her uncle worry and stay up this late.
He laughed and put his arm around her. “No one said anything. It’s just that Chad mentioned…”
“Chad talked to you? What? Are you guys best friends now?”
“Now take it e
asy. I want to make sure that you’re not working too hard and that everything is okay,” he said softly.
Katie yawned and found it difficult to keep her eyes open.
The microwave dinged.
She slowly got up and went to the kitchen.
“I’m going to hear about it in your report,” he said. “So you might as well tell me now.”
Pulling the plate out and setting it on the bar counter, she grabbed knife, fork and napkin. It wasn’t until after she made herself comfortable that she began to explain, “I had a few places to go today.” She sliced a piece of chicken breast and popped it into her mouth. “Wow, this is heaven. So, so good. Tell Claire thank you. I’ll call her tomorrow too.”
“Okay, everything out on the table,” he stated.
“Uh-oh, here comes the sheriff.”
“It’s not about your job performance; it’s about how much work you’re taking on yourself.”
“What do you mean? I have McGaven doing half the work—maybe even more with all the background checks and videos. I even have Denise running down information. I think that I’m delegating work just fine and we’re making progress.”
“That may be true, but you’re taking on too much,” he insisted. “I need all my officers and detectives balanced in their workloads—including you—especially you,” he said softening. “You’ve been through more than a lifetime of trauma and stress at such an early point in your life—in your career.” He moved to the counter and sat across from her.
Katie listened and she appreciated his sentiments, but she had noticed her anxiety and panic episodes had subsided quite a bit. “I know what you’re really saying. You’re afraid that I might go over the edge emotionally, psychologically, because of my stress and undiagnosed PTSD.” She put down her fork and moved to the living room and sat down next to her uncle. “I love you, Uncle Wayne and I cannot imagine if I didn’t have you and Aunt Claire as my family—I’d be so lost. But work is my therapy and whether you want to believe it or not—it’s helping.”
Her Last Whisper: An absolutely unputdownable crime thriller (Detective Katie Scott Book 2) Page 16
