Murder at Black Lake

by Anne Patrick

  "He's on his way in. He should be here any minute."

  Jamie left the pastries on the counter and walked to the Wanted posters.

  "Could I possibly get your autograph . . . well, actually it's for my niece."

  "Sure." Jamie stepped back to the counter.

  Macy grabbed a pad and pen and handed it to Jamie. "Her name is Isabella. She's twelve."

  "Bella for short?"

  "Oh, she would love that."

  Jamie wrote: Hi, Bella. Wishing you a wonderful life filled with love, laughter, and happiness. May all your dreams come true! Jamie Sutton.

  Macy shook Jamie's hand. "Thank you so much."

  "You're welcome."

  A few minutes later, Gage came in the door. He saw her and his face broke out in a gorgeous smile. Jamie's heart soared. She couldn't remember any man's smile having the same effect his did.

  "I came bearing gifts." Jamie motioned toward the pastry box.

  He simply nodded as if unimpressed.

  "What? I thought all cops liked donuts."

  Macy snickered.

  "I can't believe you said that."

  His grin told her he was teasing. "I know, right. It's such a cliché."

  Gage laughed. "You want to come on back to my office?"

  "Okay." Jamie looked at Macy and tapped the pastry box. "Guess they're all yours."

  "I'll be nice and share," Macy said.

  Jamie followed Gage to his office. "I heard sirens earlier. You must be having a busy day."

  He moved to his desk and leaned against it, folding his arms. "Lucy Jennings took a fall down her stairs last night."

  "Oh no. Is she okay?"

  "She was taken to the hospital and then life-flighted to Cheyenne. According to the pastor, she's in critical condition. Several broken bones and a concussion."

  "That poor woman. I just talked to her yesterday. We had a wonderful visit." Jamie told him what Lucy had told her about an eyewitness. "She couldn't remember his name, only that he was a teenager. He placed the 9-1-1 call after seeing Dwight from a boat on the lake."

  "Huh. I read through the entire case file and there wasn't any mention of an eyewitness."

  "Maybe he came forward during the trial phase." Jamie thought about telling him about her mother's bank statements but even with the hatred she felt for the woman, Jamie couldn't bring herself to believe her mother was that evil. There had to be another explanation as to where the money went.

  "So, what brought you to town? Besides the donuts."

  "I got my stitches out this morning." She swept her hair back so he could see. Thankfully, the cut had healed nicely and left only a small scar. "I also need to go by the bank. Which reminds me, I haven't paid you back for the material you bought." She took her checkbook from her purse.

  "Why don't we settle up after I buy your paint? I assume since you're here incognito, you don't want to do it yourself."

  "Oh, I was going to purchase it in Greensburg. I wanted to take Officer Williams out to lunch for having my back on the photo fiasco. Thought I'd go to the hardware store afterwards."

  "I see." Gage pulled his billfold out and removed the receipt. He hesitated a moment before he handed it to her.

  Jamie borrowed a pen from his desk and wrote him out a check.

  "So, do you flirt with all men in uniform?" He asked as he stuck it in his wallet.

  "No." She headed to the door then tossed him a smile over her shoulder. "Only the cute ones."

  ***

  Mr. Stanford stood as Jamie entered his office. "It's good to see you out and about. I was horrified when I saw that photo of you. Have they caught the guy yet?"

  "No. And it wasn't nearly as bad as it looked. Just a couple of stitches and a black eye."

  "Well, have a seat and tell me what I can do for you."

  "I was going through some of my mother's bank statements last night, and found some rather large withdrawals that appear to have been in cash, and was hoping you could enlighten me as to what she might've purchased."

  "It's been a long time, but I do remember her making some awfully large withdrawals. When I expressed my concern for keeping that much cash around, Rita told me she preferred doing business in cash, and she had been traveling a lot."

  According to her bank statements, though, the majority of her bills were paid by check or debit card. And only a fool would travel with large amounts of cash on them.

  "We filed all the necessary reports required by the Bank Secrecy Act. That applies to any transaction involving at least ten thousand in cash. And she always let us know two or three weeks ahead of time she would be making a large withdrawal. We were never contacted by the IRS, so I assume she was paying her taxes and they found nothing out of the ordinary."

  "She never mentioned any large purchases? Like a new car or land."

  "Seems like she did buy a car a couple of years ago, but it wasn't a new one. I'm pretty sure she paid cash for it."

  That must have been the one Bob sold after her mother's death.

  "You know, some folks watch a lot of the major news events and get paranoid and start stashing their money around their homes. Which to me is downright foolish, but it still happens."

  Jamie had heard stories of people purchasing furniture or other household items at garage sales or estate auctions and scoring big when a cache of money was found inside them. Maybe her mother was paranoid. She had estranged herself from her only child, and she didn't have any friends of whom Jamie knew. Alcoholism mixed with paranoia could've pushed her off the deep end. It was easier to accept than the thought of her mother hiring a hit man to kill her husband and child.

  ***

  Jamie spent most of the night looking through the house, room by room, searching all the nooks and crannies she could think of for her mother's cache. "Come on, Mom, help me out here. Prove to me you weren't sadistic enough to hire someone to off Dad and me. Show me you had some decency left in you."

  Jamie knew some people might think she was a bit crazy to talk to a dead person, but she found it therapeutic, and a lot healthier than putting her fist through a wall or succumbing to her desire to down a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  It was after one in the morning and the house looked as if a tornado had wreaked havoc on the place. Exhausted and famished, Jamie ate a tub of yogurt, took a shower and went to bed.

  The creak of a floorboard brought Jamie out of a light sleep. She reached for the lamp on the bedside table and gloved hands gripped the back of her neck and clamped over her mouth.

  Her heart hammered against her ribcage.

  "One move and you'll end up like your daddy. Got it?"

  Jamie slowly nodded. Her eyes strained to see the intruder, but in the darkness, he was just a solid mass of black. His hand clamped firmly over her mouth and nose made it impossible to breathe. Her chest constricted around lungs screaming for air. Tears burned her eyes. Her body froze, paralyzed with fear.

  God, help me!

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Please let this just be a nightmare.

  The intruder's grip tightened around the back of Jamie's neck. Her lungs felt like they were going to explode.

  This was no dream.

  Survival instinct at its most desperate jolted Jamie to her senses. She doubled her fist and drove it into what she hoped was his face. His grip loosened. Using both fists and her knees, she struck out at the man. Some blows hit their mark while others missed completely, but it was enough to free herself from his hold. Scrambling sideways, Jamie grabbed the lamp and swung with all her strength. It shattered against the intruder. He spewed curses at her as she scurried from the bed and bolted toward the door.

  Arms reached out in the dark and tackled her around the waist. Jamie braced her fall with her hands as best she could, but the weight of him landing on top of her forced all the air from her lungs. Gripping the back of her head, he pushed her face against the carpet. His hot, ragged breath hit her cheek.

  "If yo
u know what's good for you, you'll leave here tomorrow and never come back." He released her, his heavy footsteps retreating from the room.

  Jamie gasped, savoring each breath she drew. She struggled to her feet and ran to the bedroom door, locking it. Dashing to the window, she jerked the curtains back and stared at the ground below. A dark figure sprinted from the house, down the drive. Seconds later, headlights sped down the gravel road, the vehicle's make and model swallowed by the darkness.

  Her hands shook as she grabbed her cellphone from its charger beside the bed. It took two tries to dial Gage's number. It would've been easier to dial 9-1-1, but she'd much rather talk to him than a cop she barely knew.

  He answered after three rings. "Jamie." Alarm laminated her name. "Is everything okay?"

  "No. Can you…" She trembled so badly she couldn't speak.

  "I'm on my way."

  Those four words were as sweet as salvation. Jamie sank onto the bed, sobbing.

  ***

  Gage threw on his clothes and shoes, and not wanting to waste time with his contacts, grabbed his glasses off the dresser. He didn't bother locking his apartment and flew down the stairs. Jamie had sounded terrified. He'd never heard her that upset, except when he visited her in the hospital after her dad was murdered. Please let her be all right, God.

  At two in the morning, there was no traffic, so Gage didn't even bother stopping at the red lights. When he pulled into Jamie's drive, only one of the bedroom lights was on in the house. He parked in front and ran up the porch steps. His heart slammed against his chest at the sight of the front door standing wide open. He drew his gun and called out, "Jamie!" No answer. Gage flipped on the light switch just inside the door.

  The place looked ransacked. He checked the downstairs rooms, shut the front door, and then sprinted up the stairs, still calling out to her as he went. He headed toward the bedroom with the light on. The door opened and Jamie stood there looking dazed. Her hair was disheveled, the t-shirt she wore over shorts was ripped at the collar, and she had been crying.

  Oh God. He holstered his gun, ran to her and wrapped his arms around her. Gage held her tight for several seconds, gathering his courage. "What happened, Jamie?"

  "A noise woke me. I went to turn on the lamp, and the next thing I knew, this guy had his hand over my mouth and nose and I couldn’t breathe." Tears trickled down her cheeks. "I thought he was going to kill me."

  Gage pulled her back into his arms. "It's okay. You're safe now." Inconceivable thoughts ran through his mind. What did this guy do to her? "Did you get a good look at him?"

  "He was wearing a black ski mask and dark clothing. He was taller than me." She pushed out of his arms. "How did he get in? I know I locked the doors."

  "I don't know, but we'll find out. Come down to the kitchen with me and I'll fix you something warm to drink. Then I'll call Mallory and have her sit with you while Derek and I document the scene."

  "Can't I get dressed first?"

  "There really is no delicate way to put this, Jamie." Gage sighed. "Did he sexually assault you?"

  She shook her head. "I don't think that was his intent."

  Thank God. "What did he say?"

  "He said 'If you know what's good for you, you'll leave tomorrow and never come back.'"

  "Did he hurt you in any other way?"

  "No." She lifted her arms and looked at them. Bruises had started to appear with the small cuts. "I hit him with the lamp. It shattered."

  Gage followed her gaze to the floor. Glass shards covered the carpet and bedding. "Good girl." He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back.

  "I want to get dressed."

  "We'll need to take some photos first to document your bruises."

  She made a face that told him that wasn't going to happen.

  "I have to, Jamie, for the case file. Either I can do it, or we can go to the hospital and—"

  "All right. But they better not end up in a tabloid."

  "They won't. I promise." He gave her another hug. "I'm so thankful you're okay."

  "Me, too."

  ***

  Derek and Mallory showed up only a few minutes apart. "Is Jamie okay?" Mallory asked, climbing the front steps.

  "She's pretty shaken up, but she'll be all right. Will you make some coffee?"

  "Of course."

  "Derek, check all the windows for a point of entry. See if there are any footprints we can cast."

  "On it."

  Gage grabbed the camera from Derek's patrol car and documented Jamie's bruises and torn clothing. While she got dressed in the bathroom, he photographed the bedroom. He wouldn't bother dusting for prints because Jamie told him the intruder had worn gloves. He moved to the bed and snapped a couple of pictures of the broken pieces of the lamp. Several crimson dots stood out on the white sheets. He took close-ups of the dried spots.

  Jamie came into the bedroom. "What are you doing?"

  "There are some blood stains here. Do you know if they're yours or his?"

  "Most likely his. I think I got him pretty good with the lamp. Do you have a TEC kit?"

  Gage glanced over his shoulder at her.

  "You know, a Trace Evidence Collection kit."

  He laughed. "I know what it is, but how do you?" Then he recalled their talk about the research she did for her movies. "Never mind. Are you feeling better?"

  "I can't stop shaking."

  He stood and slid his arm around her. "Mallory is making coffee, why don't we go have a cup, then I'll go get my TEC kit." His attempted humor won him a smile.

  In the hallway, Jamie turned to him. "I'm thinking real seriously about getting a gun."

  Gage didn't think that was a very good idea unless she knew how to use one. "We'll talk about that later. Are you sure he didn't hurt you?"

  "Only when we were fighting."

  The fact she had fought with her intruder didn't surprise him. She had been foolish to fight off her mugger, but in this instance, she didn't know her attacker's intentions. She did exactly what he would've done had he been in her shoes.

  Mallory was on the phone when they went into the kitchen. "All right, I'll tell her."

  Gage poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Jamie. She sat at the counter, her hands still trembling. "As soon as you feel up to it, I need to take your statement."

  "Okay."

  "That was Mom." Mallory laid her phone on the counter. "She insists Jamie come and stay with her."

  "I think that's a good idea." Gage looked at Jamie and she nodded.

  Gage took a couple of sips of his coffee and set the cup in the sink. "After I finish upstairs, I'll photograph the rest of the house."

  "Oh, he didn't do that. I did." Jamie attempted a smile and almost pulled it off. "I was looking for something. I'll tell you later. I don't want to talk about it right now."

  "All right." He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Holler if you need me."

  Gage went out the back door and almost ran over Derek. "Did you find anything?"

  "The basement window has been busted out. I'm pretty sure that's how he got in. It wasn't broken Saturday when we were here. There are no visible footprints. Ground's too dry."

  Gage followed him to the side of the house. Derek pointed his flashlight to a window near the ground, next to the industrial trash bin Jamie had had delivered. Gage knelt on the ground and motioned for the light. He shined it through the large opening and saw glass on the cement floor.

  Derek knelt beside him. "It's more than wide enough, and with it being on the opposite side of the house as her bedroom, she wouldn't have heard the glass break."

  "Yeah, and that metal shelf unit is secured to the wall so all he would've had to do is climb through and drop down. The front door was wide open when I got here, so that was his exit."

  "Do you think it's the same guy who tried to mug her?"

  "I'm almost certain of it."

  "Why's this guy after her?"

  "We'll talk about that later
." Gage had no choice but to bring him into the loop about their suspicions that Dwight Jennings was innocent. "I'll finish up here and do the report when I come in." He handed Derek the flashlight.

  "Okay."

  Gage walked with Derek to his cruiser. "I'm going to need your kit. I think the guy left behind some DNA. I'll take some samples and send them to the state lab. Hopefully, he'll be in the system." Derek opened his trunk and Gage removed the container that resembled a tackle box. "Keep a lid on this, okay? And tell Rene and Macy to do the same. I don't want any of this to get out. I'll explain everything when I get to the station."

  "Got it. If you want, I can repair the window for her when I get off."

  "That'd be great, Derek. Thanks."

  After collecting the blood samples, Gage joined Jamie and Mallory in the kitchen. He poured another cup of coffee and topped off theirs. "You doing okay, Jamie?"

  "Yes. Thank you."

  "Did you guys find where he got in?" Mallory asked.

  "A basement window was broken." Gage put the coffee pot back and joined them at the center island. "Derek's going to repair it for you when he gets off work tomorrow."

  Jamie set down her cup. "You didn't need to have him do that."

  "I didn't ask him to. He volunteered."

  "Oh."

  "Do you feel up to giving me your statement now?"

  Jamie nodded.

  Gage took the recorder from his pocket. "I need you to tell me everything that happened. Okay?"

  Jamie drew in a deep breath. "All right."

  Gage turned on the micro recorder. Jamie told them everything she remembered from the time she first heard the floorboard creak. The more she said, the angrier Gage got. He was going to find this guy and pulverize him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jamie stared at the half bowl of oatmeal she had fixed herself for breakfast. She thought she was hungry, but once she fixed it, she had only managed a few bites. It was after four in the morning when they left her mom's house, and Mallory dropped her off at Stella's. It was only Jamie's insistence she was okay that convinced Mallory and Gage to leave. She suspected Gage had gone on to work since his shift began at six.