TIL DEATH

by Annette Dashofy

  Her phone interrupted before she could touch the keyboard.

  “This is Everett Jones with Hulton’s Funeral Home. May I speak to the coroner please.”

  Zoe fought the urge to swear. “This is Zoe Chambers. What can I do for you, Mr. Jones?”

  “I’ve been told you were to release Franklin Marshall’s body to us, yet I haven’t heard anything from your office.”

  “We’re not releasing the body yet.”

  After a pause, Everett Jones said, “Oh. But the widow said—”

  “The widow got a little ahead of herself. The investigation into Mr. Marshall’s death is still ongoing. I’ll call you once the body can be claimed.” Zoe ended the call before the man could argue.

  She took a deep breath to bring her blood pressure back to where it should be and opened the same files on Elizabeth that she’d dug up earlier in the week for Wayne and Dr. Davis. When she clicked print, nothing happened. Muttering, she dove into trouble-shooting mode.

  Gina Wagner and Dustin Landis.

  Zoe couldn’t shake the feeling she—and Pete and Wayne—were overlooking something. She did the math. Elizabeth was killed nine years ago. Pete had told her Gina’s relationship with Dustin ended a year or more earlier. Ten years. Gina’s daughter, the one Zoe had helped deliver, was about five, and the boy was no more than two years older.

  At least Dustin wasn’t the father of either of Gina’s kids.

  Zoe tried to print the reports again. Still nothing. “Crap.”

  Her phone rang, interrupting her failed attempts at getting the computer and printer to talk to each other. Caller ID showed Vance Twp. PD. What had Pete forgotten?

  But it wasn’t Pete who responded when she picked up.

  “Zoe? This is Abby Baronick.”

  Words that might have sent Zoe into a panic had the tone not been as light as it was. “Hey, Abby. What’s up?”

  There was a brief pause. “I know you’re busy, but I’ve been working on a hunch and could use your help.”

  With her phone pinned between her shoulder and ear, Zoe clicked on a FAQ link regarding printers not printing. “As long as you don’t need me to hook up computer peripherals.”

  Another pause. “Huh?”

  “Never mind. What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve been looking through old reports from around the time Elizabeth Landis was killed, trying to find something…anything to tie her death to this serial killer. Or to debunk the theory, whichever the case may be.”

  Abby had Zoe’s full attention. “You’ve found something?”

  “I don’t know. It’s one of those things that’s most likely unrelated, but it’s bugging me.” There was another pause and the sound of shuffling papers. “There was another homicide in Monongahela County nine days after Elizabeth’s. As I said, totally unrelated except for the timing. Male. John Doe. Homeless.”

  Zoe didn’t see the connection. “What makes you think it has anything to do with Elizabeth’s murder?”

  A frustrated sigh filtered through the phone. “It’s a feeling I have. Pete would call it his gut. I don’t want to mention this to him just yet. The thing is…I remember the guy. My dad called him a hobo. He showed up out of nowhere, was around town for a couple of weeks, then vanished until his body was found not far from where I lived back then. I was deep into reading Agatha Christie stories at the time, and my overactive imagination was convinced he’d been murdered, especially since I never learned what he’d died from.”

  “A homeless John Doe? If you never heard anything more, it was probably ruled natural causes. Anything else and the newspapers would’ve reported it.”

  “Exactly. But here’s the thing.” Abby’s voice took on an excited pitch. “I remember thinking at the time how tall and fit he looked. I mean, when Dad called him a hobo, I immediately thought of a half-starved, stoop-shouldered old man. But this guy had some muscle. Not like a bodybuilder, but like a triathlete.”

  Zoe remembered the description of Elizabeth’s killer. Tall and athletic. “You think your homeless man might be the serial killer?”

  The excitement vanished from Abby’s voice. “No. I admit that idea’s what started me digging. But there’ve been a number of murders attributed to DLK since this man died.”

  Zoe’s own excitement level dropped. “Then he’s probably just that. A homeless guy who happened to die around the same time Elizabeth Landis was murdered.”

  “I know. Just a coincidence.” Abby said the last word in syllables for emphasis.

  Emphasis that wasn’t lost on Zoe. “Pete hates coincidences.”

  “Exactly. And so do I.”

  “That makes three of us.” Zoe turned back to her temperamental computer. “Let me dig up Franklin’s findings from the case and see if there’s anything interesting.”

  “Perfect. Thank you so much.”

  Glancing at the boxes cluttering the small office, Zoe added, “It may take a while. Old file, you know.” Why hadn’t she done a better job of labeling the boxes as she’d stuffed records into them?

  After promising to get back in touch with Abby the moment she knew anything, Zoe ended the call and refocused on the printer issue. According to the FAQ page, she needed to reinstall a driver. “Crap,” she muttered at the monitor. “I have too much work to do to mess with this.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Zoe looked toward the door and the source of the voice. Her half-brother, Scott. She swiveled on the boxes, banging her knee on the desk. Ignoring the pain, she leapt to her feet and crossed the room to him.

  His lips tightened as she flung her arms around him. He returned the embrace. “I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me.”

  “Why?” She stepped back, taking his hands in hers. “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow, but I’m glad you’re here.

  “Why?” He echoed her question. “Last November for one thing.”

  Their first meeting had been rocky, to say the least.

  “I know we said we were going to spend time together. To get to know each other. But we haven’t. I take responsibility for that.”

  Zoe cocked her head and gave him what she hoped was a teasing grin. “It’s winter and you live in Erie. The snow capital of Pennsylvania. You have a legitimate excuse.”

  The look she gave him must have worked. His face relaxed. “Good thing we have email and phone calls.” He squeezed her hands. “Speaking of Erie, that’s why I drove down a day early. There’s a storm coming in from Canada tonight.”

  He didn’t need to elaborate. Zoe had experienced one of those lake-effect snows three months ago, the night they’d met. “I can’t believe you found me.” She shot a glance over her shoulder at the office.

  “I wanted to surprise you, so I called Pete. He told me where you were.”

  The fact Scott voluntarily contacted Pete despite their strained relationship warmed her. Both men were making an effort. She began to picture Scott walking her down the aisle next week. With Franklin gone and Harry’s health iffy at best, her brother might be the best option.

  She released one of his hands and faced the mess. “Welcome to my new office, such as it is.”

  He took in the small room, crammed with boxes. “Looks like you could use a hand.” Gesturing at the computer, he added, “What seems to be the problem?”

  “My printer won’t print.”

  He released her other hand and unzipped his leather bomber jacket. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here.”

  Twenty-Two

  Pete’s phone chimed as he parked in front of the Vance Township Police Department. The other spot was empty, telling him Abby was out on patrol.

  He found a new text message from Special Agent Graley.

  Check your email and call me.

  Now what?

 
Inside, Nancy glanced up from her keyboard. “Do I know you?” she said, throwing him a double dose of sarcasm.

  “Ha.” He held out a hand. “Messages?”

  She shook her head. “Abby’s already handled everything.”

  He dropped his hand to his side. “Well. She’s either looking for a raise or trying to put me out of my job.”

  Nancy smirked. “You’re never in town anymore. Might be time for some new blood around here.”

  “You’re not funny.” He headed down the hall to his office.

  “I wasn’t trying to be,” his secretary called after him.

  Pete slung his coat on the hook inside his door, poured a cup of coffee from the full pot, and sank into his chair.

  He woke up his computer to find a whole page of new emails. Abby might be taking care of the incoming phone calls, but at least he still had plenty to keep him busy. Scanning through the list of senders, he clicked on the message from Felicia Graley, subject line: DLK.

  The body of the email contained two links with one sentence typed above it. You might find this interesting. If he hadn’t received the text from her, he’d have thought this was one of those scam emails. The first link took him to a newspaper from Morgantown, a West Virginia city about sixty miles south of Vance Township. The headline read “Local Woman Murdered.” In smaller print, Police asking for help locating killer.

  Pete read the article about a young woman who’d been found shot in her car, which was parked behind the strip mall in which she worked. There had been no witnesses, and the police were looking into a person of interest. Pete checked the date of the story. A chill gripped the back of his neck when he realized the murder had taken place six weeks before Elizabeth’s.

  The second link took him to a short follow-up article dated a month later. “Woman’s Unknown Killer still a Mystery.” The body of the piece simply stated no arrests had been made and pleaded for anyone with information to come forward.

  He reread the articles before picking up his phone and keying in Graley’s number.

  The agent answered without a hello. “That didn’t take long.”

  “Care to explain?”

  “One of our investigators came across it yesterday. Like your case, this homicide happened before DLK was on our radar. A jilted boyfriend was the prime suspect, but the local LEOs were never able to gather enough evidence to make an arrest. The boyfriend later moved away from the area.”

  Pete squeezed the bridge of his nose, warding off a stabbing headache. He wanted to call Graley out on her task force missing another one but didn’t think alienating her at this point was a good idea.

  “I’m sure you noticed the date on the homicide,” she said.

  “Six weeks before Elizabeth Landis was killed.”

  “Exactly. This places DLK within easy driving distance of your jurisdiction.”

  The bells on the station’s front door announced an arrival. He hoped it was Abby, because he sure didn’t care to hear from anyone else right now. “Are you still certain Elizabeth’s killer wasn’t your DLK?” he asked.

  A long pause was followed by a resigned, “No. Your case still doesn’t match his MO, but placing him in the vicinity does change things.”

  Graley ended the call after assuring Pete she’d be in touch with any new updates and asking him to do the same. He hung up and swiveled his desk chair to face the yellowed roadmap of southwestern Pennsylvania tacked to the wall. Before his tenure in Vance Township, his predecessor had used this map to locate addresses when responding to emergencies. Pete had GPS, but he kept the map for its sense of history. Except at that moment, his gaze went to the southern border of the state. And the northern border of West Virginia. Morgantown perched on the edge of the map where Interstates 79 and 68 intersected.

  He wondered if anyone he knew worked for their police department. Preferably someone who owed him a favor.

  A rap on the doorjamb interrupted his musings. Lauren Sanders entered without waiting for an invitation. “Nancy asked me to wait until you got off the phone. Do you have time to answer a few questions?”

  Pete didn’t know whether he should thank his secretary for keeping the reporter up front while he spoke with Graley or fire her for letting anyone from the media—even Lauren—show up in his doorway unannounced. “Do I have a choice?”

  She grinned and claimed the guest chair. “You always have a choice, Chief.”

  He suspected otherwise. Especially since Zoe had informed him Lauren was going to care for the horses, allowing Pete and his bride to go on their honeymoon. “Ask your questions. But understand I may choose not to answer.”

  “Like I said. You always have a choice.” Lauren deposited her leather tote on the second guest chair and withdrew her notepad and a pen. “What are your thoughts about the possibility of the Deserted Lot Killer actually being Elizabeth Landis’ murderer?”

  Pete studied Lauren’s face. He wondered where she’d gotten her information. And exactly how much information she had. “I thought you were doing a feature on Franklin Marshall.”

  “I’m very good at multitasking.” She tapped the notepad with the pen. “Right now, I’m working the Landis case. As are you.”

  “He preys on women in deserted lots, as the name implies. There were other vehicles in the Route 15 Plaza the night Mrs. Landis was shot.”

  Lauren’s scowl told him she didn’t care for his response. “You’re not even looking into the possibility?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  She brightened. “What are you doing to rule out the serial killer as a suspect?”

  Pete’s gaze settled on his computer screen and the still-open Morgantown news article.

  Working with, rather than against, Lauren Sanders had proven beneficial in the past. Perhaps she might be helpful again. He weighed his words before speaking. “We’re keeping in close touch with a multi-jurisdictional task force who’ve been investigating the DLK. At this point, we don’t have any conclusive evidence either way, regarding his involvement in the local case.” Pete gave her a hard stare of his own. “I could use your help.”

  She looked at him doubtfully. “Oh?”

  “If I provide you with a lead…a possible link between DLK and Elizabeth Landis…would you promise to report back to me with any findings before publishing them?”

  Her doubt turned to distrust. “And blow my chance at a scoop?”

  “Not at all. I’m simply requesting you let me know first. You’ll be the only member of the news media with the story.”

  She thought about it. “Deal.”

  Pete crooked a finger at her, motioning her to his side of the computer. She scurried from her chair to peer over his shoulder. He waited until she’d read the first article before clicking to the second.

  Lauren straightened and looked down at him. “How long have you known about this?”

  “What time is it?” he asked. “I was only made aware of this homicide within the last half hour.” He studied her face as her gaze returned to the screen.

  She made a looping motion with her hand. Go back.

  He clicked to the first article again.

  “Six weeks,” she mused. “A person could walk here from Morgantown in under six days.”

  “With plenty of time to spare.”

  She nodded thoughtfully and returned to her chair. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “Dig into the Morgantown case.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “I intend to. But you often have more ready sources than I do.”

  “True.” Lauren ran a finger back and forth across her lower lip. “I may know some of the staff at the Morgantown newspaper.”

  Which was what Pete was counting on. “Find out what they know. Pass along what you learn to me.”

  “I’m not giving up
confidential informants.”

  “I don’t expect you to.” He wouldn’t give his up to her either.

  She continued to think. “And you’ll reciprocate? You’ll give me anything you find out before making a public statement?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Her lips curled into a sly smile. “Can you email me the links to those articles?”

  He hit a few keys. “Done.”

  “You can fix this?” Zoe asked.

  Scott cautiously claimed her spot on the boxes after testing them to make sure they’d hold his weight. “I’ve built a few computers over the years. It’s a hobby of mine.”

  “I don’t need one built.” At least, she hoped she didn’t. “I just need the one I have to talk nice to the printer.”

  After a few brief moments of tapping on the keyboard, Scott confirmed that he needed to reinstall the printer’s driver. The task, which sounded herculean to Zoe, took Scott only a couple of minutes to complete. The printer hummed to life, spitting out the reports she’d wanted. And then a second copy.

  “Crap. Make it stop. I kept hitting the print button…I don’t know how many times.”

  Scott managed to cancel the additional orders. The machine whirred and fell silent.

  “Thank you,” Zoe said. “You’re my hero.”

  A cloud seemed to pass over his dark eyes. “Don’t give me too much credit.”

  “You saved me a bunch of aggravation, of which I have plenty right now.” Her thoughts drifted to the wedding and the image of her clinging to Scott’s arm as they approached the altar. It felt right.

  He stood and brushed off the seat of his jeans. “No problem. Now about tomorrow. Where do you want me and what time?”

  She scoured the desk and came up with a scrap of letterhead from the office’s former occupant. “Pete’s house. I’ll write down the address. Can you make it around eight o’clock?”

  “I can be there earlier if you need me.”

  “That’d be great. Thanks.” She handed him the paper and looked at his thin, handsome face, covered in a light stubble. Pictured him in a suit. Her brother. “Scott,” she began hesitantly.