Silent Ridge: A gripping crime thriller and mystery (Detective Megan Carpenter Book 3)

by Gregg Olsen

  It’s early but I drive by Dan’s shop downtown. It’s out of my way and chances are he won’t be in yet, but I have to see that he’s okay.

  The shop isn’t open yet. A couple of vehicles are parked along the street. The owners are probably in the coffee shop that opened just around the corner. It’s called Dilly Dally. Stupid name, but I heard the coffee’s good. I slow down and think maybe Dan will come in for coffee. I stop and get a half dozen coffees. The owner looks like Elmer Fudd in the Bugs Bunny cartoons. He’s staring at my chest while he talks. That should get me coffee for free, but I don’t say anything. Staring at my less-than-ample breasts may be the best thing that happens to him today.

  Dan doesn’t come in. I stall and ask for creamer, sugar and napkins. Dan still hasn’t come in by the time I get all that and pay. The creep is still looking at my chest while I get my change. I don’t leave a tip. He’s gotten all he’s going to get from me this morning.

  I drive by Dan’s one more time. He said he hired a girl but there’s no sign of activity. I’m not threatened, just curious. I drove by the shop before I went to The Tides last night and he wasn’t at work. I’m pretty sure it was his truck I saw driving by The Tides last night. I wonder where he was going.

  I have to quit thinking about my personal life. That’s the problem with having one. It’s hard to stay focused. That is part of the reason I resisted taking Ronnie on as an intern. Now that she will be full-time, I think it might change the flow of things. On the other hand, it may be easier if she gets some of the workload, if I ever get a workload. In the last three weeks I’ve had two burglaries that weren’t actually break-ins. In both cases they turned out to be false reports. They had rented something from a rent-to-own store and reported it stolen to avoid paying. Sheriff Gray calls those places “rent-to-steal” stores. Plus I’ve had a handful of domestic abuse incidents.

  That’s another reason to avoid relationships.

  At work, I see Sheriff Gray’s truck and Ronnie’s Smart car. Nan’s Batmobile is there. A jet black ’69 Cadillac with huge tail fins and black leather interior. She’s lucky to get three miles to the gallon.

  I go inside with the box of coffees and hand one to Nan and Ronnie. I must be the last person to arrive at work for once. Ronnie seems happy but I can see the headache lines beside her eyes. I go back to my desk, take the lid from one of the coffees and blow across the top. I hear my name called, pick up another coffee and take it to the sheriff. I set the paper coffee cup on his desk.

  “Shut the door and have a seat,” he says.

  I shut the door but don’t sit. “I really have something to do this morning,” I say.

  “We need to talk,” he says before I can come up with what that something is.

  “Okay.” I sit down. I don’t intend to have the talk this morning. Or any morning if I can help it.

  “What’s going on with you?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?” It’s always good to answer a question with one of your own. Sometimes the other person will answer their own question.

  “I think you know this killer personally. I think it has something to do with that old picture of you. I think you are hiding something and it is eating you up. I think you don’t trust me.”

  He doesn’t know how right he is.

  “I can’t tell you everything right now. I will, but not right now.” I change the subject. “You know I had an argument with Dan a couple of nights ago?”

  He nods but says nothing.

  “I think it’s Michael Rader who left the pictures for Dan. I knew Monique Delmont from around the time that high school picture was taken. I suspected Michael Rader of being a serial killer back then, but I never had proof. Michael thought I had the proof. He knew I was looking into his past. He threatened Monique back then to tell him where I was or he would kill her daughter.”

  “Gabrielle.”

  “Right. Gabrielle. I think Monique found the proof and Rader killed her.” This is all made up but it sounds good. “He’s coming after me but he wants to kill the people who helped me try to track him down back then. That’s why I had Gabrielle move away and why I’ve been talking to the other people he might be after.”

  “And you didn’t think I should know about this?”

  “This is something that I started a long time ago. I wanted to get a handle on it before I told you. You think I don’t trust you, but you’re the only person I can trust.”

  If you knew the whole truth, you would have to arrest me.

  Sheriff Gray looks at me for a long time. He takes something out of his desk drawer. It’s another copy of my high school picture.

  “This was left under my windshield wiper at my house.”

  I feel a chill run up my spine. I never thought Sheriff Gray might be in danger. Rader knows where he lives. Of course he does. It is hard to find out where a cop lives if you’re a civilian. But for a corrections guard it would be easy.

  “And this article was in a Ziplock bag.” He takes out the newspaper article that has my picture on the front page. The one that says my stepfather, Rolland, was found murdered and my mother is missing. The article says the police are looking for me—Rylee—and Hayden. I’d never told Sheriff Gray about my family. He didn’t know I had a brother. He never asked. And Rylee was dead.

  I look at the article. I hope my expression says I’ve never seen it before, but I’m too shocked to see it again. My face feels frozen and my pulse beats in my throat and temples. He folds the article up around the picture and sticks it in his shirt pocket.

  “Sheriff, I—”

  “I checked into this, Megan,” he says. “You don’t need to tell me about it. But you do need to tell me if you’re in danger. And if anyone else is in danger. I’m the sheriff, you know. I have a duty to protect people. You do too.”

  I feel like my life is coming unraveled. I got myself into this situation by not tracking down Michael Rader after I knew he’d threatened Monique. I knew he was onto me and looking for me. I thought I could just disappear, create a new life for myself. But this is what I should have expected. Rader hasn’t given up as easily as I did. He isn’t finished with me.

  Plus, if Sheriff Gray found out this easily, what does Dan know? Did Rader leave a newspaper article for Dan? Does he plan to expose me as well as kill all my friends?

  I can’t breathe.

  I feel the coffee coming up in my throat and run for the restroom.

  Fifty-Three

  I’m in the women’s room, leaning over the toilet. My stomach and chest hurt and I feel like acid has been poured down my throat. I don’t hear the door open but I hear the click of shoes coming toward me.

  “Megan, are you okay?”

  It’s Ronnie, thankfully, and not Nan.

  “I’m fine,” I say, but the words are strangled. I can barely push them out.

  “You don’t look fine. I’ll get you a washcloth.”

  I hear her open a cabinet and then the faucet turns on. She comes back with a wet cloth. I take it gratefully and wipe my face, then put it on my forehead and the back of my neck.

  “You had a lot of Scotch last night,” she says.

  I grab onto that thought.

  “Hangover,” I say.

  “Maybe you should go home and take care of yourself. I can come by and check on you.”

  The sincerity in her voice is real. I’ve never had anyone really take care of me before. Not even my mother. I took care of myself when I was sick. Hayden was my mom’s golden boy. If he sneezed, she was there with a tissue and taking his temperature.

  “I might do that, Ronnie. I feel bad.”

  And I do. I feel bad about everything. I have to fix things. I know who the killer is. I didn’t go after him as hard as I should have. I am worried about Dan now. Not only that he may be in danger but that he may know. He may truly hate me. He may be struggling with the decision whether to turn me in or just turn me away.

  Rader left the picture and old-
new article under Sheriff Gray’s windshield wiper outside of his house. His way of saying he’s not afraid of the police.

  Or me.

  And another frightening thought hits me. What if Rader knows about Hayden? I bend over the toilet and retch, but all that comes up is more acid.

  “Megan,” Ronnie says. “I’ll get you home.”

  “No,” I say too forcefully. She is being kind and I sound like the bride of Frankenstein. I know I should tell her everything I can so she can protect herself. But I think if I find Rader and end him, this will all go away.

  “I’ll be okay.” I manage to croak out the words. “We have work to do. I’ll get some rest before your swearing-in ceremony. I promise.” If Rader doesn’t kill me first.

  I go to the sink and wet the washcloth again. I wipe my face and look in the mirror. I don’t really care how I look but I have to pretend to be getting better.

  “There,” I say, and force a smile. “All better. Thanks.”

  I can see that Ronnie’s not buying it, but she doesn’t say so.

  “I may need you to do something for me,” I tell her. “Let’s go to your desk.”

  Her desk is further from Nan’s. When we get there, I pick up her phone and keeping my back turned toward Nan, I call Dan’s work number at the shop. I get an answering machine and leave a message for him to call me. Then I remember he has some girl working for him. I call back, get the answering machine again. I add that his employee should call me right away if Dan’s not there. I hang up.

  Ronnie is giving me a curious look. “Dan’s not at work?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not talking to me.”

  “You used my phone so he wouldn’t recognize the number calling?”

  She’s smart.

  “I guess,” I say. My throat is feeling a little better. Good enough to speak clearly anyway. “Can you call his cell phone?”

  She calls and hangs up before it goes to voice mail. I think he might not answer if he’s outside working on his carvings with the chainsaw. I have her call again. He doesn’t answer. I call from my own cell phone. No answer. The voice mail answers and I hang up.

  It’s 10:00 in the morning.

  He should be at work.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  “Are we going to see Dan?”

  “I have to see Sheriff Gray first.”

  I go to his office, rap on the door and enter.

  Fifty-Four

  Sheriff Gray gives me a reprieve until Ronnie’s hiring ceremony is over this evening. I promise I will answer his questions. I’ve already applied for a search warrant for Michael Rader’s motor home and he said he will contact me when it’s ready to serve. He talked to the judge and was promised an arrest warrant as well. I don’t want to arrest Rader, but this will cover the bases.

  We get into Port Townsend. Dan’s store is closer than his cabin. I push through a couple of yellow traffic lights. The Taurus hugs the ground better than most of the marked police vehicles and I take advantage of that as I round corners. I pull in front of Dan’s shop, which is facing the bay, and I try to tell Ronnie to stay put but she’s out of the car.

  The front of his business is a glassed-in showcase where several of his carvings are displayed. A grizzly bear stands twice the size of the one I have at home. Lighthouses, some painted red and white like a barber pole, some more traditional with the whitewashed tower. Eagles, cranes, wolves, buffalo. He’s been very busy.

  I look through one of the panes of glass in the door and can see the sales counter. The place looks empty. I try the door and it opens. I tell Ronnie to go to the back and I go in. I move ahead and see a teenage girl holding a rifle. She’s holding it like she’s aiming it at someone who is just out of my sight.

  I don’t wait for Ronnie to get in position. Weapon in hand, I move slowly and deliberately toward the armed girl. She’s turned where I can see only the side of her face but she’s clearly not more than a teenager. Lustrous black hair hangs over her shoulders and down her back. She’s about my size. I point my .45 at her. I don’t want to startle her into firing the rifle. I speak in a conversational voice.

  Sheriff’s Office. Don’t turn around. Please put the weapon safely on the floor, ma’am. That’s what I should have said. In truth I yell like a whole SWAT Unit, “Drop it, bitch!”

  Instead of dropping the rifle, she turns toward me, rifle still up and at the ready and I feel my finger tightening on the trigger. I let up at the last instant. I can see the “rifle” is made of wood and is painted.

  She turns facing me. Her eyes are big as full moons. Her mouth is working like she’s a fish out of water.

  I remember the name Dan gave me for his employee. “Are you Jess?”

  She tries to talk but only a croak escapes her lips. She nods her head up and down, then looks at the wooden rifle like it’s a snake and throws it away.

  I re-holster my .45 and show her my badge. “I’m Detective Carpenter. Sheriff’s Office. My partner is at the back of the business, so I’m going to let her in. You stay here so she doesn’t do anything.” I’ve been in the shop once, so I know the way to the back door.

  “You mean like you just did?” Jess asks. She’s recovered fast or she’s just a smartass.

  “Yeah. I thought that was a real gun.” I’m embarrassed but I would have been even more so if I’d shot her.

  I bring Ronnie through after having her holster her weapon. I don’t tell her I almost shot Dan’s helper. I introduce Ronnie as a detective. It’s easier than giving her whole title and having the person think Ronnie is a rent-a-cop.

  “You scared me to death,” Jess says. Her hand is on her chest. She’s not scared. She’s being a drama queen.

  She’s Native American. She’s seventeen, a high school senior, and beautiful. She and Ronnie will get along just fine.

  “Jess, I called and got the answering machine. Dan isn’t answering his phone, either,” I tell her.

  “You’re that Megan Carpenter. Dan’s girlfriend. He’s told me stories about you.”

  She seems to be in awe, so I don’t correct her about the girlfriend comment.

  “I need to find Dan. Do you know where he is?”

  She looks up and around like Dan might be on the ceiling. “He’s not here.”

  I can see that. The back of the store is one room with a long workbench but there are two doors. An entry door and a wider delivery door.

  “Do you know how to get in touch with him?”

  “He’s not at home?” she asks.

  I want to slap her, but I don’t. “Jess, I really need to find Dan. Do you have any idea where he is or how I can reach him?”

  She shakes her head. I feel my hand making a fist.

  “What would you do if there was an emergency? Who do you contact?” I ask almost calmly.

  “I’d call the sheriff. But you’re already here.”

  I look at Ronnie for help but she’s got her hand over her mouth, hiding a grin.

  I go to yes-and-no questions. “Has he been here this morning?” It doesn’t work.

  “He was here yesterday. He left me some instructions for today. All I do is run the register and take phone calls.”

  She’s not doing very well at taking phone calls. I wonder if I was that dense at seventeen. I decide I wasn’t. Not even when I was six. I didn’t have a chance to make a mistake. It might have cost a life. Like just now when I almost shot her. And I may yet.

  I let Ronnie take over the questioning. Jess may still be seeing the bore of my .45 in her mind. Ronnie is less threatening.

  “You can call me Ronnie,” she says, and gives Jess’s hand a shake. Ronnie’s been working on her grip. My idea. Her handshake used to be like water running through your hand. She’s up to a Nerf ball.

  “Is Dan coming in to the shop today?” Ronnie asks.

  “He was supposed to be here when I opened. I have a key just in case he runs late.”

  “And what time did you open
?” Ronnie asks.

  “Six thirty. Well, six forty-five or so. The key wasn’t where he usually leaves it and I had to hunt around. He’s always here before me, but I think he left me a note last night telling me what to do this morning.”

  “Can we see the note?” Ronnie asks.

  Jess goes behind the counter and retrieves a piece of notebook paper. She hands it to Ronnie. She’s probably still pissed at me for putting a gun in her face.

  Ronnie hands the note to me. It’s handwritten.

  Jess, take care of the shop for me until I return.

  I’m not an expert on handwriting, but it looks like Dan’s perfect hand. I show it to Jess and ask, “Is this his handwriting?”

  She shakes her head. “How would I know? You’re his girlfriend.”

  My hand makes a fist again and I shove it in my pocket. “Have you tried to call him?”

  “When?” she asks.

  “Today?”

  “No.” She looks at me as if I’ve asked her to calculate the earth’s distance from the sun.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “A couple of days. I don’t know.”

  “How many days?”

  “Yesterday morning.”

  “Yesterday morning what time?”

  “What’s with all the questions? Is he in some kind of trouble? Am I going to lose my job?”

  Ronnie makes me proud. She reaches out and grabs Ms. Moonbeam by the shoulders. “He’s not in trouble with us. But you may be if you don’t start answering our questions.” She says this forcefully and Jess seems to snap out of her childish games.

  “I don’t know where he is. Honest. He was here yesterday morning when I came to work. I was here about six thirty and I left around five thirty yesterday. He was still here when I left. His truck was parked around the back. I haven’t heard from him since yesterday when I left work. He never said anything about not coming in today. I came to work at six thirty this morning and his truck wasn’t out back. I don’t know if he’s coming to work today or not, but he’s usually here before I am.”