“Thirty-five fifty-one East Evergreen Street. Please send someone out as fast as you can.”
“I’m alerting the police officers now, ma’am. Are you still inside the house?”
“Yes, I am,” Samantha said, crouching down against the back of the door and wrapping her arms around her legs tightly. “I’ve locked myself in the bathroom.”
“Okay, Miss Vincent. Stay in there. I’m going to wait on the line with you until the officers arrive. A squad car is on the way. I’ll let you know as soon as they get there so that you can let them in.”
“Thank you.”
Samantha pressed her ear against the door. There was no sound coming from the other side.
“I don’t hear any more noise,” she whispered.
“Good. But please, just stay put. While you wait on the authorities to arrive, can you tell me what happened?”
“Yes. I was awakened by the sound of shattering glass. I think my living room windows were busted out. And I don’t know whether someone has entered the house, but I’m pretty sure some of my possessions have been destroyed.”
Samantha felt her entire body shake with fear. She thought about calling Gregory but didn’t want to hang up with the dispatcher.
“Okay, Miss Vincent. I’m making note of that. The police officers just informed me that they’re turning down your block now. They’ll let me know when they’re at the front door. Did you see anyone inside the house?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Do you believe that someone entered the house at some point?”
The thought of an intruder breaking into her home caused Samantha to release a chest-rattling sob. “I don’t know. I haven’t been out of my bedroom.”
When the doorbell chime rang out, she jumped away from the door.
“Ma’am, the police officers are outside your home. Do you feel safe leaving the bathroom and going to let them in?”
Samantha grabbed her emerald silk robe that was hanging on the back of the door and slipped it on over her matching floor-length gown.
“I do,” she told the operator.
“Okay. I’ll let them know you’re on the way out.”
“Thank you.” Samantha unlocked the door and gradually opened it. She peeked out into the darkness.
“Are you still there?” she asked the dispatcher.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m still here. I won’t disconnect the call until you’re with the police officers.”
Samantha found comfort in the operator’s presence, despite it being over the phone. “Good. Thanks.”
She tiptoed out of the bathroom and slid her feet into a pair of furry silver slippers, then shuffled toward the bedroom door.
“I’m going out into the living room now.”
“Okay, Miss Vincent. Just keep your eyes open and be careful.”
“I will.”
Samantha squeezed the door handle and pulled it open, then crept down the hall. When she turned on a light and laid eyes on the living room, she almost fell to her knees.
“Oh no,” she cried, collapsing against the wall.
Her windows had been shattered, and several bricks were strewn across the floor. Just as she’d suspected, her crystal lamps had been destroyed along with her handcrafted indigo art glass vases. The mirrored end tables on either side of her sofa were covered in cracks.
“Miss Vincent, are you still there?”
“Yes. I’m here. I just came out into the living room, and it’s been destroyed. The windows are busted out and there’s glass everywhere. My lamps and vases are ruined. There’re bricks all over on the floor. And now I’m seeing that bottles were thrown through the windows, too.”
Samantha dropped her head in her hands. She felt so vulnerable and violated. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who was behind the attack. It had Collin Wentworth’s name written all over it.
She had uploaded the latest post about Jacob’s murder to her blog earlier that night. Word was getting around town that she was covering the case and looking for leads. She’d been stopped several times in the grocery store, coffee shop and deli by her readers, who would inundate her with questions. They all had various theories—some wild, some realistic. But one thing was for certain. Everyone suspected that Collin had had something to do with Jacob’s death and felt that he should have cooperated with the investigation.
Samantha was jolted out of her thoughts when the doorbell rang again.
“Ma’am, the police officers are waiting on you to answer the door,” the dispatcher said. “Are you able to let them in?”
“Yes, I am.”
Samantha slunk through the living room, struggling to avoid stepping on the shards of glass. But she soon deemed her efforts impossible considering there were fragments everywhere.
“Forget it,” she muttered, hoping her slippers’ rubber soles could withstand the myriad fragments as she made her way to the front door.
When Samantha opened it, two police officers she didn’t recognize were standing on the other side. Judging from the looks on their scowling faces, they weren’t happy to be there.
“Operator,” she said, “thank you for staying on the line with me. I’m letting the officers in now.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Vincent. I hope you’re able to get everything resolved.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
She disconnected the call and opened the door wider, her legs trembling as she stepped to the side. “Hello, Officers. Please, come in.”
A short, stubby policeman with slick dark hair sauntered inside first without bothering to greet her. His long-faced, lanky partner followed him. He was carrying a cup of coffee and greeted Samantha with a nod of the head before tipping his hat.
“Good evening,” he said through his thin-lipped mouth. “Or morning, I should say.”
“Wow,” the stubby officer uttered. “What happened here?”
“I was awakened by the sound of shattering glass. So I hid in the bathroom and called nine-one-one. When you all arrived, I came out to the living room and saw all this damage that was done.”
“Yeah, this is pretty messed up,” the officer said nonchalantly. He walked over to the couch and bent down, taking a closer look at the broken lamps.
The sound of glass crunching underneath his shoes, along with his lackluster demeanor, sent a streak of anger through Samantha.
“So, I’m sorry, what’s your name?” she asked the stubby one.
“Officer Baxter. That’s Officer Miller,” he mumbled.
Samantha opened the notes app on her phone and typed in both of their names. “Okay, Officer Baxter, you’re asking me what happened, but neither you nor Officer Miller are recording my statement.”
“I am so sorry, Miss Vincent,” Officer Miller said, quickly whipping a notepad out of his back pocket. “I’m just shocked by all this damage. Can you tell us what happened here?”
Samantha watched as he walked around the room eyeing the wreckage while Officer Baxter stood in one spot, glaring at his partner angrily. She resisted the urge to shake her head and instead focused on Officer Miller.
“I heard the sound of broken glass,” she began, “hid inside the bathroom and called nine-one-one. When you all arrived, I came out here and saw all this damage that had been done.”
“Any idea why someone would vandalize your property to this extent?” Officer Miller asked.
“Well, I run a true crime cold case blog called Someone Knows Something, and I’m currently covering Jacob Jennings’s murder investigation—”
“Murder.” Officer Baxter snorted. “Jacob wasn’t murdered. Everybody knows he overdosed on—”
“Come on, Baxter,” Officer Miller interrupted before turning back to Samantha. “I’m sorry, Miss Vincent. Please, continue.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you,” she murmured, tightening the belt on her robe and folding her arms in front of her. “I was saying that I’m covering Jacob Jennings’s murder investigation on my blog. And I find it awfully coincidental that this happened after I posted a pretty controversial update today where I called out the general manager of Westman’s Automotive Factory, Collin Wentworth. I’m sure you two have heard of him.”
“Of course we’ve heard of Collin,” Officer Baxter barked. “He’s Chief Wentworth’s son. Why would you be calling him out in an article about Jacob OD’ing on drugs?”
As he waited for Samantha to respond, the policeman poked out his chest and gripped his holster. His hostile behavior told her everything she needed to know about his thoughts on Collin’s involvement in Jacob’s death.
While Samantha wanted to open up to Officer Miller, she questioned just how much she should share in the presence of Officer Baxter. It was becoming clearer by the second that he was not on her side.
“I just wondered whether the blog post hit a nerve,” she continued carefully, “and someone did this as a warning. Maybe to try and convince me to stop reporting on the case.”
Officer Baxter bent down and picked up one of the bricks off the floor. Samantha was surprised to see that he’d done so without wearing a glove. Now his fingerprints would be on it as well as the perpetrator’s. She glanced over at Officer Miller, hoping he’d reprimand Officer Baxter for tainting the crime scene. But he was so busy staring down at his notepad that he hadn’t even noticed.
“Welp, first of all,” Officer Baxter began, “I think I’d be pissed off, too, if I was being accused of something I didn’t do on some random blog. So, Samantha, is it?”
“Yes,” she snapped.
“You have to be careful going around blaming folks for crimes they didn’t commit,” he continued. “The medical examiner ruled that Jacob’s cause of death was an accidental drug overdose.”
“You mean the same medical examiner who has a very close relationship with Chief Wentworth as well as every important official in Gattenburg?”
“Look, I’m not going there with you. Now I know word around town is that Jacob may have been murdered. But you’re not gonna help solve anything by inserting your uneducated, uninformed opinion. You don’t have the authority or the expertise to even be speaking on the matter.”
Samantha opened her mouth in an attempt to fire back at him, but Officer Baxter continued his verbal ambush without taking a breath.
“And before you go accusing Collin of being behind this attack on your house, keep in mind anybody could’ve done it. We gets calls every week about some high school kids vandalizing property all over town.”
“Have any arrests been made?” Samantha asked as she glared back at him. A sick feeling seeped into her stomach. It was obvious that he was team Collin all the way.
“Unfortunately, no.” Officer Baxter sighed nonchalantly. “But we’re workin’ on it.” He tossed the brick he’d been holding down onto the couch and turned to Officer Miller. “You got everything you need?”
Samantha looked over at Officer Miller, confident that he would step up and be of more assistance than his defiant partner. But when he avoided her gaze and nodded his head at his partner, her expectations quickly faded.
“Yeah, I think I’ve got enough,” Officer Miller replied, closing his notepad and sliding it inside his back pocket. “Miss Vincent, I’m really sorry that this happened to you. I’ll be sure to—”
“All right, then,” Officer Baxter interrupted, practically pushing his partner toward the door. “Let’s get outta here.”
“So wait, that’s it?” Samantha asked, watching in complete shock as the officers stepped out onto the porch. “You’re not going to thoroughly process the crime scene, take photos, nothing?”
“Like we said, we’ve got everything we need,” Officer Baxter told her. When Officer Miller opened his mouth to speak, Baxter quickly continued. “We’ll file the report down at the station and follow up with you if we have any questions.”
And with that, the policemen bounced down the stairs and headed to their patrol car.
Samantha slammed the door behind them. Her chest heaved in anger. She eyed the busted windows and fought off tears while storming down into the basement to search for sheets of plywood.
On the way there, she called Detective Harris. At this point she didn’t care what time it was. She was disgusted by the way Officer Baxter had treated her and floored after they’d both neglected the crime scene. But more importantly, she couldn’t cope with the trauma of what she’d just experienced alone.
“Hello?” the detective said after answering on the first ring. Samantha was surprised to hear that he sounded wide-awake.
“Detective Har—I mean, Gregory?”
“Yeah, hey. How ironic that you’d be calling me at this ungodly hour. I was actually just thinking about you.”
“Were you?” Samantha asked, momentarily forgetting all about her home being vandalized. “What were you thinking about?”
“I just finished reading your latest blog post about Jacob. This is great stuff, Sam. I mean, you did go in on Collin pretty hard, but you presented some solid evidence that backs up your claims. And I love the way you concluded the post. ‘Come on, people,’” he read. “‘Do the right thing. Come forward. Speak up. Be heard. Help bring justice to Jacob Jennings and his family. Because as we all know, someone knows something...’ That’s really awesome, the way you worded that ending.”
“Thanks, Gregory. Unfortunately, the post really struck a nerve with a certain someone here in Gattenburg.”
“What, did you receive some negative feedback on it?”
“Worse. My house was just vandalized.”
“Wait, what?” the detective shouted so loudly that Samantha had to pull the phone away from her ear.
“Somebody just drove by my house and threw bricks and bottles through my living room windows. They’re all busted out, my lamps and vases are shattered, there’s glass everywhere...it’s a mess.”
She could hear the detective rummaging around as he breathed heavily into the phone.
“I’m getting dressed now,” he huffed. “I’ll be there shortly. Did you call the police?”
“I did. They’ve already been out here, and one of them in particular was absolutely terrible.”
“Really? What happened?”
“Well, one of the officers tried to sympathize with me, but the other guy was so abrupt and rude,” she insisted, waving her arm in the air. “And they didn’t even process the crime scene. When they asked who I thought may have done this, I of course told them Collin. After that? The alpha officer grabbed the beta officer and practically ran out the door. But not before telling me he doesn’t think Collin had anything to do with Jacob’s death, and that I need to stop with the accusatory blog posts.”
“Well, without processing the scene, how would he even know whether it was Collin or not?”
“My point exactly! He tried to convince me that it could’ve been some high school kids. I honestly think he was saying anything just to take the attention away from Collin. But you already know I’m not going for that. It’s no coincidence this happened right after I posted that update on Jacob’s murder.”
“I think you’re right. Did you happen to get the police officers’ names?”
“I sure did.”
“Good. I’ll see to it that the situation is dealt with. But in the meantime, I wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m so sorry this happened to you, Samantha. I wish you’d called me sooner.”
Just hearing those words of support caused her anger level to go down several notches. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Listen. First off, I barely ever sleep. Secondly, I don’t care what time of day or night it is. If you need me, call me.”
“
Thank you, Gregory. I will.”
“Do you have the supplies I’ll need to board up your windows? Or should I stop by the store and pick up some plywood?”
Marry me, Samantha wanted to blurt out. But instead she checked her basement closet and saw that she had several plywood panels left over from last year’s flooring project.
“I do have the supplies here. And Gregory? Thank you so much for this. I really—”
“No need to thank me,” he interrupted. “I’m glad to help. You’re doing great work for the community of Gattenburg while trying to get justice for your friend. I really admire that. This is the least I can do.”
“Well, just know that you’re greatly appreciated,” she said right before hearing his car door slam. “Are you already on your way here?”
“I am. I should be there in about ten minutes.”
Samantha exhaled with relief. “Great. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”
“That sounds good. And by the way, make sure you don’t disturb the crime scene. You should contact your insurance company first thing in the morning and file a claim, too.”
“Oh yeah. Thanks for reminding me of that. And I’ll be sure to leave the scene as is.”
“See you soon.” As Samantha climbed the stairs and headed into the kitchen, she felt the heaviness of the attack lift a bit. Gregory’s reassurance had given her a deep sense of protection, even in the midst of clear and present danger.
Chapter Five
Gregory parked his car in front of Samantha’s house. He grabbed his brown leather messenger bag, hopped out and ran to the front door. On the way there, he checked the lawn and pathway for footprints and assessed the damage that had been done to her windows.
“Wow,” he breathed, shocked by the extent of the destruction.
His chest ached at the sight of huge holes in the windows and shattered, jagged glass surrounding them. It was obvious that the act of violence had been committed by someone with malice in his heart who had something to hide as well as something to lose if he were to be found out.
The attack was a warning shot that rang out loud and clear. And for Gregory, it sent a message that there was more, and probably worse, where this came from.
Cold Case True Crime Page 5
