“Nine-one-one, hello?”
Still nothing. There are several seconds of faint rustling and clattering followed by a sudden gasp and two thunderous booms, undoubtedly the sounds of a shotgun being fired.
“Hello? Hello?”
In the background, there is a second or two of unintelligible gasps and groans along with a low, thumping, scraping sound.
Boom!
More noise. Then a woman’s horrified scream of “Bill.”
More noise, still indiscernible.
“Hello … hello, can you hear me?”
A loud clattering, as if the handset was dropped.
Silence.
“Is that it?” Lewis asked.
“Yes,” the sheriff replied.
“Goddammit!” Lewis stood up, his chair screeching across the floor as it was shoved into the wall. He started toward the door, as if he were about to storm out, but then he stopped, his hands on his hips. He let out a long, frustrated sigh. “I assume a copy’s been sent to our lab for analysis?”
“Yeah,” said Marasco.
“Did your people come up with anything on the Joneses?” Lewis asked.
The sheriff looked at the open the folder in front of him. “The fingerprints on the severed limb were a positive match for Mrs. Jones. We still have not heard word from your office regarding the rest of the evidence.”
“I talked with them this morning,” Lewis said. “It’ll take them another day or two, but it’s a top priority.”
The sheriff continued. “Six years ago, they leased the land from the government for thirty years. Their lawyer told us they leased it with money from an insurance settlement with a trucking company they received about ten years ago. Their daughter and son-in-law were killed in a wreck when one of the company’s drivers fell asleep and jumped the median.”
That explains the lack of family photos at the cabin, Kyle thought.
“Did he say how much the settlement was for?” Lewis asked.
“About four million,” George replied.
Marasco whistled.
“Did he say who inherits the Joneses’ estate?”
“Their daughter was an only child. Their only surviving heir is their granddaughter, Carrie Daniels. We contacted her yesterday and informed her of what happened. She should be here this morning.”
“Anything on her?” Lewis asked.
The sheriff flipped to another page. “She was eleven when her parents were killed in the wreck. She lived with the grandparents until she went off to college at Stanford. After graduating, she took a job in Denver with a small weekly newspaper.”
“Did he say anything about her relationship with her grandparents?”
“Only that they were very close,” the sheriff said and then added, “When the Joneses received the settlement, they put half of the money in a trust fund for the granddaughter, which she received when she turned twenty-one.”
“She received two-plus million when she was twenty-one and still graduated from Stanford?” Kyle said. “Most kids coming into that much money would have never even considered going to college, and even if they had, it would have just been to party. They probably would never have graduated.”
Lewis didn’t seem as impressed. “Any idea what her financial status is now?”
“No,” the sheriff replied.
“Sometimes when people come into a lot of money, it changes them,” Lewis said, almost in an I-told-you-so manner. “She’s known about that money since she was just a kid. Who knows how she really feels about it? Hell, for all we know she might have resented the grandparents getting half of it.”
“I don’t think that’s the case here,” Kyle offered.
“Why?” Lewis asked.
“The pictures at the cabin.”
“Pictures?”
“Yeah, on the TV. They looked like a happy family. I just can’t imagine that she had anything to do with their murder.”
“Oh, come on,” Marasco said mockingly. “Are you trying to tell us that we should rule her out as a suspect just because they looked happy in a few family photos?”
“I’m not saying we should rule her out, just that I don’t think she did it. There is a difference.” Kyle knew that it wasn’t good investigative procedure to make judgments based on a few pictures above the mantel, but there had been something about the pictures that had struck him. He knew of all the stories of jealous lovers and greedy family members killing each other for money—there was one in the papers almost every day—but he hated to think that what appeared to have been a happy, loving relationship between the Joneses and their granddaughter might have ended that way. If that were true, how could anyone ever feel safe?
“Is there anyone else who stands to benefit from the Joneses’ death?” Kyle asked. “Someone who wants their land? Maybe a dispute with a logging company or the Forest Service?”
“Not that we know of,” said the sheriff.
“Maybe that’s why we haven’t come up with any leads on the Seattle men,” Kyle thought out loud. “Maybe they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe the Joneses were the target all along. Maybe they were just lucky the first time when they went into town because of the storm.”
“It’s possible,” Lewis admitted. He sat back down at the table. “But what about the missing skier? What was his name?”
“Adam Peters,” said the sheriff.
“Maybe Peters isn’t tied in with the others,” Kyle said. “Isn’t it possible he had an accident or something?”
“It happens,” said the sheriff. “He could have hit a tree, fallen into a snow well, or skied off the trail and broken a leg and then been covered up by the recent snows. If so, it might take another month or two for his body to turn up.”
“But we can’t assume that’s what happened until we have evidence to back it up,” Lewis said. “I want us to take a look at the files on the Seattle men again, see if maybe there’s some connection between them and the Joneses we might have missed the first time.”
A thought occurred to Kyle. “Sheriff, did the Joneses call in at any time between the first killings and now?” he asked.
“There were no other 911 calls,” he replied.
“Not 911 calls but just a regular call like a complaint about someone intruding on their land or something.”
“Or a certain poacher—say someone named Tucker?” Marasco offered.
“Right,” Kyle agreed.
“Non-911 calls aren’t stored on the system. We’d have to do a manual search of the phone records for the last several months,” George said.
Kyle looked at Lewis. “It’s not a bad idea,” Lewis said. “Why don’t you get with Deputy Johnson and see about getting a copy of the records. And I want to call the Joneses’ lawyer back to ask him if there have been any inquiries by anyone looking to buy out the Joneses’ lease in the past.”
The sheriff nodded. “I’ll check with the game warden to see if he received any calls from the Joneses and the Forest Service to see if they know of any reasons someone might want that land.”
Lewis seemed less than optimistic, but Kyle was beginning to feel at least some encouragement with the new developments. He felt like he was actually contributing something, and for the first time in weeks, they had a new avenue to pursue.
CHAPTER 28
When Carrie Daniels stepped into the room, Kyle hardly recognized her as the same girl he had seen in the pictures at the Joneses’ cabin. That girl had appeared youthful and exuberant, with a sparkle in her eyes in spite of what had happened to her parents. But the girl who sat across from him now looked older than her years and weary to the point of collapse. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her skin looked pale and splotchy. Her eyes were red, but more than that, they appeared dull and lifeless. Kyle had seen that look before. It was the same look he had seen on Miss Vera’s face after her son, Roberto, had been killed in a convenience store robbery. Kyle immediately felt sympathy for the girl.
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When Lewis introduced him, the look in her eyes was one of near panic, and for a brief moment, Kyle thought she might turn and run. Instead, she tentatively shook their hands and sat down.
“Ms. Daniels,” Kyle began. “First, let me say how deeply sorry we are for your loss and assure you that we are doing everything in our power to ensure that the perpetrators are brought to justice.” He pulled out one of his cards and handed it to her. “My job is to act as a liaison between yourself and our office to make sure that you are kept informed about the ongoing investigation and eventual trial as well as to offer grief counseling and to provide assistance with any other needs you might have during that time.” While Kyle spoke, she kept her head down, looking at the purse clutched tightly in her hands. “I know this is a very difficult time for you, and I want you to know that I’m here to help you through it.”
Carrie nodded and quietly asked, “What happened?”
“We’re not really sure,” Lewis said. “It appears that someone broke in through the front window and killed both of your grandparents.”
“Why would anyone want to do that?”
“We don’t know yet,” Lewis said. “We were hoping you might be able to help us with that. If you don’t mind, we would like to ask you a few questions.”
Carrie cleared her throat, trying to regain control of her tremulous voice. “Okay.”
“Ms. Daniels, do you know of any reason why someone might have wanted to kill your grandparents?” Lewis asked.
“No, they were both incredibly kind, loving people.” While Carrie spoke, she continued to look down at her purse, nervously twisting the thin straps around her fingers. It was painfully reminiscent of the way that her grandfather, Bill, had held his ball cap during his interview.
“Are you aware of any reason why someone might want to take over your grandparents’ lease?”
Carrie sniffled and shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Lewis nodded. “Just take your time and think. We’re not in any hurry here. Do you know if there were any former business partners or associates who might have had a disagreement with either of your grandparents?”
“No, my grandfather was a ranch hand for years, and my grandmother was a schoolteacher. They didn’t start the fishing-guide company until after I was away at college.”
Lewis made a few notes in his pad and then asked, “Has anyone approached you about your grandparents land?”
“No.”
“Do you know if they had any disagreements with any of the renters who stayed at their cabins?”
“No, at least nothing that they told me about.”
“Did they ever say anything to you about the murders at their other cabin?”
Carrie looked surprised by this. “No, what other murders?”
“Four men from Seattle were killed at your grandparents’ rental cabin in February. They never said anything to you about this?”
“No,” Carrie said. “They never mentioned it.”
“So you spoke to them between that time and now.”
“Yes,” Carrie said and nodded. “I talked to them all the time.”
Lewis paused again, nodding. He was being careful not to push her too hard. “When was the last time you spoke with your grandparents?”
“I … I don’t remember exactly. About a week ago, I guess.”
“And during this time, did they say anything that seemed unusual? Did they seem different? Like they were nervous about something?”
“No, but I’m not really surprised they didn’t say anything. They were both so protective of me, especially my grandmother. I’ve been having a bit of a hard time lately, and I’m sure they just didn’t want to worry me about anything else.”
“What sort of trouble?” Lewis asked.
“I … I’ve been having some trouble with one of my exes. But I don’t see how—”
“Please be patient with us,” Lewis said. “I know it may not seem relevant, but we need to gather all the information we can. Now, specifically, what kind of trouble were you having?”
Carrie bit her bottom lip. “I … it … he had been abusive, and after I broke up with him, he began stalking me,” she finally blurted out. “I went to the police about it, but they said there wasn’t anything they could do about it.”
“Please understand … we have to cover every possibility,” Lewis said. “Did your ex-boyfriend ever make threatening statements against your grandparents?”
Carrie looked stricken by that thought. “He’s made them to me, but he never mentioned my grandparents. You don’t think—”
“We don’t know,” Lewis said, trying to keep her calm. “That’s why we’re asking you. Do you think he is capable of something like that?”
“I … I don’t know. I … oh, God, if—” She paused as she struggled to maintain her composure. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to hold back the tears. “Can I see them?” she blurted out.
Lewis frowned. “I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.”
“Why?”
Lewis sighed.
“Ms. Daniels,” Kyle jumped in. He knew Lewis wasn’t the most diplomatic person in situations like this. “This is not going to be easy for you, but I think it’s better that you hear it from us rather than read it in the papers. Your grandparents’ bodies were … dismembered, and we have yet to recover all of their remains.”
Carrie sat in stunned silence for a moment, unmoving, as if time had stopped for her. Then she suddenly burst into tears. She opened her purse and pulled out a crumpled bar napkin with the airline’s logo on it but dropped it. It was as if that one small incident was the last straw. She dropped her purse, sending things spilling out and rolling across the floor. She buried her face in her hands as sobs racked her body.
Instinctively, Kyle stood up and moved toward her to offer support, but she flinched backward and held up her hand as if to ward him off. He stopped and stood there, unsure of what to do.
“Can I please go?” she cried.
“Yes,” Lewis said. “Just let us know where you’re staying so we can get in touch with you.”
Kyle helped gather up the contents of her purse. She grabbed the purse and stood quickly, the chair scraping across the floor. She rushed out the door, her hand held over her mouth, tears streaming down her face.
They were both silent for a moment after she left.
Finally, Kyle asked, “Do you think the boyfriend might have done it?”
“I don’t know,” Lewis said. “He might have, or he might have hired someone to do it if he knew about the money.”
Seeing something, Kyle knelt down and picked up a pen that had slid under the table. It was a silver Mont Blanc with engraving on the side: We are so proud of you!
He looked at the door, feeling terrible for the brokenhearted girl who had just run from the room.
CHAPTER 29
The white steeple rose high into the sky in stark contrast to the banks of low, gray clouds that shuttered the day. A few scattered snowflakes drifted down only to melt as soon as they landed on the hoods of the cars or the wet sidewalk.
Kyle turned up the collar of his overcoat and stuffed his hands in the pockets as he and a handful of local townspeople made their way into the church for the Joneses’ memorial service.
He wasn’t exactly sure why he was here. He had brought her pen with him, but he could just as easily have called her to let her know he had it. He had told Lewis he thought it might be worthwhile to attend in order to keep an eye on the girl and any possible suspects who might show up, but that wasn’t really the reason. Nor was it anything as shallow as physical attraction for the girl. Sympathy, empathy, and even guilt were more accurate descriptions for the feelings that had drawn him here. He supposed it stemmed from his childhood experiences with Miss Vera and her son, but he had always been drawn to people in need. Deep down, he felt guilty about their situation in life, as if he were somehow res
ponsible for their misfortune and it was his duty to make things right again.
In this particular case, Kyle’s guilt was not totally unfounded. The hard truth of the matter was that if they had found the killer in time, Carrie’s grandparents would still be alive.
Whatever his motivation, Lewis hadn’t seemed to mind. The past few days had been spent following up on information about Carrie’s ex-boyfriend, including any airline tickets he might have purchased to Montana, substantial bank withdrawals, loans or credit card advances he might have made, or any other suspicious activity he might have been involved with in recent weeks. They were still waiting for the forensics report on the Joneses’ place, which was due back today.
Halfway down the aisle, Kyle paused when he saw the elaborate stained-glass windows above the choir loft. They were reminiscent of the windows in the Highland Park Methodist Church in Dallas, bringing back a sudden flood of memories he thought he had put behind him long ago.
The last time he had been there had been for his father’s funeral. He could still remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. It was a cool day in late October, the sky a brilliant blue. The leaves on the long row of maples lining the walk had already turned, and the ground was awash in a sea of colors. The crisp, clean scent of fall was in the air, along with the musty smell of damp, decaying leaves.
As he thought back to that day, Kyle realized he hadn’t been back to that church since. It wasn’t because he wasn’t a religious person; it was just that after his father died, there hadn’t been anyone left who cared enough to take him anymore.
That was one thing he had in common with Carrie. Although the circumstances weren’t exactly the same, he knew what it was like to lose one’s parents. He had lost his father to a heart attack when he was thirteen, and even though his mother was still alive, for all intents and purposes, he had lost her to the bottom of a bottle years before that.
As he stared at the multicolored depiction of Christ on the cross, Kyle wondered if it was that similarity with Carrie that had drawn him here today, perhaps in hopes of finding someone he could commiserate with.
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