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

by Jennifer Chase

  “That’s why I’m looking for aliases, monikers, and other names used. I don’t see anything, no ID or driver’s license, but he did work as a maintenance trainee at the hospital under that name. It looks like he was also paid under that name.”

  Katie had an idea. “Cross-reference anyone at the hospital with the first or last name Chris or Randall. I know we’re assuming that the killer is currently employed. He could have quit by now, but let’s see if anything pops.”

  McGaven keyed up the spreadsheet of all current employees at the hospital and did a quick search using Chris or Randall. He waited until a few things came up. “Oh, it can’t be…”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Let me double-check a few things.” McGaven had a pained expression that Katie had never seen before.

  Katie began to pace in the small office that now had blueprints scattered everywhere.

  “Crap. I hate this database,” he said.

  McGaven typed quickly and was clearly troubled. He stopped and stared at the computer.

  “What?” she asked and stared at the screen.

  McGaven said slowly, “Chris D. Randall also known as Randall Christopher Drake.”

  “Who is that?” Katie looked confused.

  “It’s a nickname—of course. Randall is Randy the security guard at the hospital that I’ve spoken to several times.” He stared at the database. “He’s the guy that gave me the video of Amanda and Marco Ellis. I can’t believe…” He was out of words as things began to tumble into place.

  “Wait a minute. What’s his connection to Basin Woods?”

  “From what I can see, he lived there with his wife.”

  “Is he still married?”

  “It says he’s a widower.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “It just says that Tara Drake died. And Maggie Drake is also deceased.”

  “Who’s Maggie?”

  “Their three-month-old baby.”

  “Well, wait,” Katie said. “Are they connected to the Highland Project?”

  “It says that he and his wife lived there too—their last listed residence.”

  “Drake is off work now. Have patrol go by his house to see if he’s there.

  He picked up the phone. “On it.”

  Katie waited while he made the call.

  “They’re going by his residence now.”

  Katie grabbed her coat. “Let’s go check Basin Woods out now—if Tess Regan was taken by the killer, she could be at this location. It’s familiar. It fuels his internal need to fulfill a fantasy. I know it’s almost dark, but we can still do a reconnaissance. We’ll update the sheriff when we get there. We cannot afford to wait if someone’s life is hanging in the balance.”

  McGaven followed suit by grabbing his jacket.

  “You know that gut thing I’m always talking about?” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s working on overtime now.”

  Sixty-One

  McGaven didn’t have to argue about wanting to drive this time; instead, Katie handed him the keys before he could ask.

  Katie had retrieved Cisco from the police department kennel and he padded alongside the detectives as they got into the police vehicle and raced out of the sheriff’s office parking lot heading east.

  The setting sun was behind them reflecting a burning orange in the rearview mirror as they raced down the freeway. McGaven set an ambitious speed but kept safety as his priority, especially with the dog unrestrained in the back seat.

  Cisco stood up and watched the road with the detectives—he sensed something important was up and obviously wanted to be a part of it.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Katie holding to the handhold.

  “About?”

  “The location.”

  “One thing I’ve been learning during my short time as a detective is that you never know what you’re going to find. Jump in feet first and let whatever happens shake out.”

  Katie leaned back against the headrest and smiled. “That’s the truth,” she said, remembering her last case and the odds that were stacked against her.

  “Did you want to call the sheriff?”

  “No, I want to wait for when, and if, we find anything.” She took slow even breaths, hoping that McGaven didn’t notice that she was beginning to feel strange—that familiar chill of anxiety crept into her spirit again. She relaxed as much as she could, hoping that it would merely wash over her and vanish like it had before when work had taken over.

  They traveled for more than a half hour. Katie watched the outside scenery change from cityscapes to rural settings and then change back to smaller communities again. The landscape in the area was diverse and it was reasonable, if not commendable, that the county as well as the state wanted to improve impoverished and abandoned areas pumping new life into the city.

  The view finally transformed into miles of agricultural land for crops, which made it seem like they hadn’t seen another house in ages; she noticed less traffic too. The light was waning, affecting their ability to conduct a thorough search of the “Humanity Project” also known as Highland Project.

  “Turn there,” she instructed.

  McGaven slowed the car and turned down a heavily graveled street, but it was instantly obvious that it was going into no-man’s land. Even though they were within ten miles of the freeway, the neighboring two streets remained like a ghost town: overgrown, deserted, and ultimately forgotten.

  The area had been originally fenced to keep people out, but it had been put up so long ago that it was lacking in areas. The main gate hung askew, broken and rusted, and was just wide enough for a car to barely pass through.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I didn’t expect it to be so…”

  “Creepy.”

  “That’s an understatement,” he said.

  Katie strained her neck, surveying the open land. It appeared to go on for miles. There were areas that crops were growing: mostly vegetables like broccoli, lettuce, and zucchini.

  “It’s so strange,” she said, for lack of a better description. She felt a cold chill crawl up her spine and moved her shoulders quickly to try and shake it away.

  McGaven studied the areas as well but remained quiet.

  Cisco circled in the backseat and pawed back and forth from window to window. He kept his watch on the area looking for bad guys, but nothing moved except for pieces of garbage and dead brush blowing down the dirt street.

  “Let’s take a look,” she said and focused on her iPad showing an overview of the area. “I think we should make a left and park.”

  McGaven maneuvered the car around a large fallen branch in the middle of the road. There were telephone lines down too, making it a tight squeeze driving underneath. He finally parked.

  It surprised Katie that there were still so many trees in the area: they hadn’t burned, fallen down or been removed.

  “This is good,” she said. “There’s visibility for this block. And if anyone comes near, Cisco will alert us.”

  “He’s not coming with us?”

  “No. I don’t know what kind of condition the houses are in and I don’t want Cisco in the middle of something that might go sideways. Some are burned down completely and others most likely have significant damage. Officially, he’s just a ride along.”

  McGaven gave her a concerned look.

  “Don’t worry; I’ve still got the remote if there’s an emergency.”

  They exited the vehicle, leaving behind a very restless dog.

  “Okay, how do you want to do this?” she asked.

  Walking around the car to the trunk, McGaven popped the lock and flipped it up. “We’re going in prepared.” He divvied up flashlights making room with the crowbars, extra magazines, and made sure his service weapon was ready.

  “Okay, Rambo,” she said, trying to lighten the situation, but in reality, she wanted to calm herself down.

  “I’
ll take that as a compliment. The easiest thing to do is I’ll take one side of the street and you take the other. You know,” he said, “they say this place is haunted. There have been many accounts of people seeing ghosts.”

  Katie rolled her eyes in disbelief. “People see what they want to see.”

  “Okay. But a couple of the deputies saw some weird stuff around here.”

  “Maybe they did,” she said flippantly. The last thing she needed to hear about was some demonic spirit, most likely someone sneaking around trying to scare people.

  McGaven smiled. “You never know what you’re going to find.”

  Katie took an overall survey around the area.

  “What do you think?” he said. “It’s only two and half houses each.”

  Nodding in agreement, Katie said, “You’re right. That’s the best way to handle the searches. If we can’t find anything here, then we’ll reassess.”

  “Okay,” he said and headed to the first house on his side of the street.

  “Hey,” Katie said. McGaven turned around. “Anything doesn’t seem right, you wait for backup. Check in every ten minutes and keep your cell phone open to the walkie-talkie mode.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Sixty-Two

  Katie walked up to the first house along a broken walkway still with remnants of caution tape; the house had been at one time charming and inviting. The front door no longer existed and several large pieces of burned plywood were the only things covering the main opening and windows on each side.

  She looked down the street and behind the house. There were remnants of the other burnt structures, leaving only the cement foundations.

  Before entering the house, Katie used her flashlight to search the front and backyards to see if there had been any recent activity, but they were bare and there were charred impressions of walls and porches. The upper windows were broken out, most likely from juveniles partying and throwing rocks.

  It struck Katie as odd that there weren’t any signs of graffiti or areas that had empty liquor bottles. The area would be a prime place for teenagers or gang members to congregate, but it seemed to lack their typical signatures.

  Walking back to the front door, she carefully tugged at one of the loose pieces of plywood on the right side of the door frame. The sound of the screech of the long nails pulling away sent an eerie echo traveling down the street. She wondered if McGaven had heard it, but she was sure he had his own obstacles. She glanced across the street and saw the quick streaks of light from McGaven’s flashlight bounce around inside the house.

  Katie directed her flashlight inside and peered through the illumination from one side to the other: A large living room and open kitchen with small dining area on one side to the stairs leading up to the next level.

  She entered the house with her gun ready but not directed. Standing at the threshold gaining her bearings, she saw the carpet had been removed and the appliances smashed and scattered around the adjacent rooms. The interior had a stagnant moldy smell mixed with smoke, but nothing that would make her gag. She was surprised that smoke still permeated the interior.

  First looking around the living room walls, she was alert to seeing anything that appeared as if it didn’t belong or might indicate a false room. She swept the entire downstairs area before she ascended the staircase, which still had some remnants of well-worn carpet attached to each stair.

  With every other stair creaking underneath her weight, Katie made her way to the second story. She stood still to listen. It was quiet except for some mild wind blowing through the upstairs broken windows.

  Directing the flashing in a systematic grid pattern, along the floor, walls, and ceiling areas, Katie combed through the second floor with tenacity.

  She quickly searched the bedrooms and bathroom, but nothing appeared unusual or out of place with the layout.

  McGaven’s voice came from her speaker phone, interrupting her search, “Find anything?”

  Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she replied, “Nothing—yet.”

  “Just about to clear the first house. Over and out.”

  Katie jogged down the staircase and exited the house.

  One down…

  Sixty-Three

  McGaven was just about to clear the first house on his side of the street when he heard a crash. At first it sounded like it came from outside, but when he listened again it seemed to come from underneath the kitchen.

  He retraced his steps and couldn’t find where the noise originated. Then it dawned on him, there was a basement.

  Walking back into what was once the kitchen, McGaven directed the flashlight in every corner and into areas without appliances. There was a regular door that he had mistaken for a pantry, so he opened it and shone the light down. It was indeed a basement. Slowly descending, he took the rickety wooden stairs down, searching from corner to corner, but nothing looked sinister or out of place. Perhaps it was the vacant structures settling, or an animal.

  His cell phone alerted him, “You okay?” said Katie.

  “Super. Clear here as well.”

  “Copy. Over and out.”

  Two down…

  Sixty-Four

  Katie managed to explore the next house, but unfortunately had the same result and it was severely damaged and didn’t look safe. Nothing unusual. She couldn’t find clues indicating someone had stayed inside or if there had been foul play. Not one thing.

  Katie’s mood suffered the more she searched. Her enthusiasm for finding more evidence or something that would lead to the killer was waning with each empty room.

  She approached the last small house standing: a small one-story structure which had been painted white with a dark trim. Standing in the walkway, she studied the siding, windows, and the weed infestation along the flower beds on both sides of the front door.

  The night was in full force, dark, foggy, and a heavy mist clung to everything around her including her hair and clothes. She became chilled as she stared at the small residence. Something about the cozy home made her think of the type of people who had lived there. Did Randy and his wife live here? What happened to Randy’s wife and daughter?

  As she stared down the dark street in both directions, it seemed as if the few remaining houses, mostly burned out shells, sat in the shadows, as if the entire neighborhood was not only neglected but erased from time.

  She strained to listen for Cisco’s bark, but the dog was quiet. There were no other people or animals wandering around the area, which kept them safe for now. The remaining neighborhood was flanked by endless agricultural land as far as the eye could see.

  Katie heard a soft bang from behind her and saw McGaven’s large frame exiting the house opposite. His flashlight swung from left to right. She watched him approach with a long purposeful stride. He hesitated a moment and then headed straight to her.

  “Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re not kicking in walls or anything at the moment.” He tried to keep the conversation light under the circumstances.

  “Just trying to get a grasp of the area.” She still stared at the small white house.

  “What does your profile say about this place?”

  “Good question,” she said. Looking at McGaven standing in the darkness, she hadn’t realized before how lucky she was to have been promoted to the cold-case unit and to have such a good friend and loyal partner working with her.

  “Katie?”

  Her thoughts turned back to the killer. His motivations. His fantasies.

  “Katie, what do you want to do now?” he asked.

  “I thought we would find something here. I was overcompensating and just basically hoping to find something here, but…”

  “We have to keep looking,” he interrupted.

  “You’re right—you’re absolutely right. This place seems perfect for a killer to use as his own private prison for his victims, but he’s clever and
no doubt there are other places that would suit his needs. We have to keep searching. It might be just one house—somewhere. It could be some property that he inherited.”

  “I’m going to move the car closer and take a look around at the land and a few of the burnt-out sections,” he said. “Meet you there.”

  “I’m checking this place too—no stone unturned,” she said and smiled as she headed toward the house.

  Her phone buzzed, there was an incoming text from her uncle which read:

  Small electrical fire at abandoned house crime scene at Basin Woods Project—fire department en route. Much of the evidence will probably be destroyed.

  Katie was disappointed. She answered:

  Thanks for update. We are checking leads at the Humanity Project—update soon.

  She heard a car engine roar to life and drive around to the other street. McGaven had moved the police car to a better area near the fields.

  Katie put the phone back in her pocket and didn’t expect to hear any more from her uncle. The thought of losing crucial evidence made her almost nauseous. Her phone buzzed again and she didn’t want to read the text, knowing that her uncle was going to give her a lecture about how impetuous she was and she needed to be careful. She wasn’t disobeying an order; she was just ignoring it for now.

  Her phone chimed once again. This time she glanced at it to find it was Chad calling her. She ignored it, hoping he would understand.

  Katie entered the last house; staying at the doorway, just as with the other houses, she swung her flashlight beam slowly in a one-hundred-eighty-degree sweep. The house was different in the layout and condition. She didn’t detect smoke. There was a new rug placed over the yellowing linoleum in the kitchen along with a roll of paper towels and some used napkins. She didn’t see any evidence of food or wrappers or containers lying around.

  That wasn’t what stopped Katie abruptly and made her draw her weapon.